Venus of Shadows (25 page)

"I can't think of any argument against it," she replied, "but you've only been with us a month and a half. Are you sure that's what you want? You'd have a chance to build your own quarters after you've been here a while."

"We'd be better off as partners, and I can do well enough working here. It makes more sense than starting my own household — I mean, if it's all right with you."

"Well, I'm grateful that we won't be losing you."

"I can add a couple of rooms to Tina's wing — there'd be almost as much space for me there as I'd have in my own house, and it wouldn't cost so much credit to build."

She smiled. "A couple of rooms?"

"Grazie and Paul'll need some extra space for their child." Nikolai gazed at his feet as he thrust his hands into his pockets. "And there's Emilia. We get along, and she kind of hinted that she'd rather live here if we ever decide to make a pledge — with her brothers and her cousins, there wouldn't be much room in her house for us."

Emilia Knef was an apprentice of Chen's. Risa had noticed that the young woman and Nikolai often spent evenings talking under the trees outside, but she had not realized the pair had grown so close. She would have seen that, she supposed, if Malik were not distracting her so often. "Emilia's hardly more than a girl."

"She's old enough to know what she wants, and she's a good worker. I thought you ought to know — I'm kind of serious about her, so I wanted to be sure she'd be welcome later on."

"Of course she is. Chen would be pleased — he says she's one of the quickest apprentices he's had." That would simplify matters; she would no longer have to reproach herself for being unable to feel more for Nikolai. The young Russian was eminently practical; having seen that Risa's affections had already been claimed by Malik, he had turned his attention elsewhere. She felt a twinge of regret.

"Malik ought to think about making a pledge to you," Nikolai muttered.

"Maybe he doesn't feel he knows me well enough for such a commitment."

"Why wait? I don't know what more he could want. He reads too much of that history in his library — he talks about things that happened a hundred years ago as if they happened yesterday. Maybe he thinks he'll be alive forever and have time to decide everything later. I could talk some sense into him."

"Don't," she said firmly. "I won't have him feel that he has to —"

"You won't be around forever, either. You ought to think of yourself."

She did not want to discuss Malik any more. She pressed her hand against the door. As it opened, she saw her father at his table, staring at a carving. She had thought that Malik might have waited up with him to congratulate her; she should have known better.

Chen lifted his head, then stood up quickly. His face was troubled; he did not look as though he was about to offer any congratulations. "You didn't have to wait up for me," she said as she walked toward him. "What's wrong? Don't tell me that you decided to cast your vote for someone else."

He did not smile. "Dawud al-Askar called just a little while ago," Chen said quietly. "I'm only giving you his message because I promised him I would. He thought you'd want to know. Pavel Gvishiani's dying. Dawud doesn't think he'll last longer than a day or two more."

Risa tensed, suddenly alert, her tiredness gone. "Did he say —" She swallowed. "Is Pavel still conscious? Is a physician looking after him?"

"I didn't ask." Her father scowled; she had never seen such a dark look on his face. "Your mother died because of him. He had to play for time instead of preventing that — do you think I can ever forget? She could have been here now, alive, with me. I'll be glad to see him dead."

"That's past," Risa replied.

"It'll never be past for me. He thought he could use her — that's why she died."

"Pavel did what he felt he had to do, and Iris did the same. She knew the risk she was taking — don't demean her memory by calling her a tool of Pavel's." Her voice had risen; she choked back more words.

Chen took a step toward her. "I can understand why others would forget," he said, "but not my own daughter. I should have tried to stop you from seeing him at all, but I thought you'd come to see things my way. Well, he'll be dead soon enough."

"Whatever he did," she burst out, "we're here because of it. Whatever mistakes he made, he was thinking of this world. He's paid for what he did."

"He didn't pay enough."

"And he's been my friend," she shouted, "almost like another father."

Chen raised his arm; for a moment, she thought he might strike her. "You shame your mother's memory by saying that!"

"I have to go to him. I should be there to say farewell to him."

Chen lowered his arm as he looked away. Malik had entered the common room; Risa glanced at him briefly. "Stay with my father," she whispered to Nikolai before she hurried from the house.

*  *  *

By the time she reached Pavel's house in the main dome, her strength was nearly gone. The old man was dying; she had expected it but not so soon. She had visited him only a few days earlier; he had listened attentively and patiently while she discussed her feelings about Malik and her doubts about herself — matters she could not discuss with Chen, who would only find them another failing.

Jeannine Loris, another Council member, greeted Risa at the door. Other visitors had gathered with Pavel's household in the common room. Risa beckoned to Dawud; he walked toward her. "How is he now?" she asked.

"A physician's with him," Dawud's eyes were resigned rather than sorrowful. "He was awake before, but he might be sleeping now."

"May I see him?"

"The others have. He'd want to see you. Go ahead."

She went to Pavel's room. The old man lay in his bed, eyes closed; Gupta Benares was leaning over him. A small scanner sat on the table next to the bed; she saw no other medical equipment.

Gupta's dark eyes met hers. "It's his heart," he said; the physician's brown face was composed. "He had an attack a few hours ago. I estimate that he may have a day or two more without intervention."

She clasped her hands together. "Why aren't you doing anything, then? He should be in the infirmary. Can't you —"

"Intervening now will only prolong his passing, and the strain of moving him might kill him. He's refused treatment. I told him he should have had a heart replacement before, but he didn't want it and our facilities are limited in any case."

"There must be something you can do."

"He's made his choice."

She moved closer to the bed. Pavel opened his eyes. "Risa." His voice was faint. She knelt and bent her head toward him. "I trust you aren't going to cry. I heard the news about you. I'm a little sorry that I won't see you on the Council myself."

"But you can. Tell Gupta to take you to the infirmary."

"And have limited medical resources prolong an old man's life? That doesn't sound like a new Council member speaking or the daughter of Iris Angharads." He was silent for a moment. "What Venus could get out of me now wouldn't be worth the effort."

"He can help you," she insisted.

"Stop it, Risa. This isn't like you, and it's a strain on me to scold you." Pavel cleared his throat. "You look tired — you ought to be sleeping. Have you had a talk yet with that young teacher in your house?"

Risa shook her head.

"I thought you valued my advice. You know what I said — tell the man what you want from him and give him the choice of deciding if he can grant it. Don't be so indecisive. You want a child and you ought to have one soon."

She clutched at his hand; his fingers were icy. "How conventional you sound."

"It isn't that. With some, it wouldn't matter, but I know what you're like. You'd be happier with a bondmate and a child, and that'd make you more useful to Oberg." His voice was weaker. "I'm happy you came," he continued, "but say your farewell now. I lived most of my life alone, and I don't need companions to face death. You've done your duty. Don't linger outside with the others — say your farewell, go home, and turn your thoughts to life."

She pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Do you hear me?" Some of Pavel's old strength had returned to his voice. "Go home."

"You won't be forgotten, Administrator Pavel."

"No — I'll be remembered for the wrong reasons, no doubt."

"Farewell." She touched his forehead. His dark eyes closed.

*  *  *

Risa went to the airship bay. Three workers on the darktime shift were loading cargo into a cart. She rode with them as far as the tunnel, then walked the rest of the way on foot.

The common room was empty. She went to her room, too tired to get a meal in the kitchen. Malik was lying on her bed; a covered tray sat on the floor.

He opened his eyes and sat up. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"There's food for you on the tray." He helped her off with her clothes, then handed her bread, goats' cheese, and a cup of fruit juice. She chewed the food listlessly.

"Did you see Pavel?" Malik said at last.

"Yes. He's awfully weak. It's probably a wonder he's still alive." She swallowed the juice and put the cup back on the tray. "He refused to have any treatment. At least he didn't see me cry — he would have despised that." She fell silent until the lump in her throat eased. "I could always count on Pavel. All those people who turn to me for advice never think I might need advice, too. I think Pavel might have taken an interest in me because he was a little sorry about what happened to my mother, but I could never explain that to Chen."

"Your father calmed down after you left. His anger's past. I told him I'd wait here for you. This should have been a happier day for you, Risa." His hand rested lightly on her shoulder.

Pavel had told her to think of life. All she could see was death making its inevitable demands. "I'm not just mourning for Pavel," she said. "I'm thinking of my father, too. I don't imagine most of us will live quite as long as people on Earth. I might lose Chen sooner than I think, and I haven't even given him a grandchild. He probably thinks I never will. He gave so much to this Project and I —" She stared at the spot on the inside other left arm where her contraceptive implant had been embedded when she reached puberty. She had thought then that there would be a bondmate and children for her by now.

Malik's grip tightened. "Is that what you want? A child?"

"Yes." She had to say it now but was afraid to turn her head and see his reaction. "I love you, Malik. It's your child I want."

His hand fell away.

"Please don't say anything until I've finished," she said. If she did not speak now, she might never find the courage to broach the subject again. "I want your child, but I won't ask anything more of you. We can draw up an agreement so that you have your rights as a father, but you needn't make a pledge."

"Some in Oberg may find that odd," he said tonelessly.

"Tina's a Plainswoman and so was my mother. Their people didn't care for bonds, and those who disapprove are free to gossip if they like. You can live here as you have, without ties, and if you leave to live somewhere else, I'll see that the child has time with you." She wondered if Malik could sense the urgency in her request, if he could see that this was her way of pushing death from her for a while.

"That's what you want?"

"Tina can do the genetic scan and remove our implants. I don't expect she'll find any problems. I'd rather not wait." I can't wait, she thought; too many years might pass before she loved another man, if she ever found one to love at all. "If you'd prefer not to have ties to the child, we can arrange for that, too. I can always say that I was the one who didn't want a bond so no blame will be attached to you."

"Why are you telling me this?" His hand lifted her chin, forcing her to gaze into his face; she was surprised to see the pain in his dark eyes. "Is it because you don't want me for a bondmate or because you believe I couldn't be a good one? You think I'll fail you. That's what it is, isn't it? You love me enough to have my child, but you're too sensible to tie yourself to someone so useless. Our first night together, you told me I should find a bondmate, but I suppose you had someone else in mind."

"I just don't want you to feel obligated or pressured."

"I understand," he said softly. "I couldn't possibly change. It never occurs to you that I might need you or want you for a bondmate. I'll make a pledge to you, Risa. I don't know what kind of father I'll be — I never felt the need to become a parent — but I'm willing to try."

This was what she wanted. Why couldn't she feel happier about it? Even now, she wondered if Malik was speaking out of love or from pride and a desire to prove that she was wrong about him.

"Will you be my bondmate, Risa?" he asked. "Even if it's only for a little while, I'll try to make you happy. You may even find that you want to renew our pledge later. I'll try to be more than I've been — I can —"

She touched his lips, silencing him; she did not want to hear too many promises he might not be able to keep. "I'll make a promise to you. When I'm pregnant, when we know there'll be a child — we can make our pledge then."

"If you wish it that way." His hands moved over her as she lay down next to him.

Eleven

Chen stood near the main road, at the edge of the crowd that had gathered outside the mosque in Oberg's main dome. He had not expected to see so many people here; of Oberg's nearly eleven thousand inhabitants, he guessed that nearly three thousand had made their way to this spot, and there might have been more if others had been able to leave their work for this occasion.

He did not see anyone weeping. Pavel Gvishiani had been an old man, and his death was expected. Most of those here were not mourning Pavel; instead, they were marking the passing of an era in their world's history. A few, like him, had probably come to the mosque with a hidden, dimly felt desire to make sure that Pavel was dead.

The mosque was no more than a minaret and four walls surrounding an open courtyard. The entrance to the mosque opened; Pavel's body, wrapped in a white shroud and laid out on a fiat bier, was being carried out. Sigurd Kristens-Vitos, dressed in his formal white robe and headdress, walked next to the bier, leading the procession in the direction of the recycler that would receive Pavel's remains.