Venus of Shadows (26 page)

The people in front of Chen pressed forward. "God is great," Sigurd called out. Others took up the chant. "God is great!" It was one of the few Arabic phrases that Chen understood. He had never heard that Pavel was particularly devout or regular in his observances, but it was rumored that he had made his peace with his God at the end. Chen almost wished that he could believe in such a God, one that might make Pavel suffer for his sins.

"God is great!" several people near Chen cried. Several in the crowd, those wearing the black and red sash of Ishtar, were silent. Chen caught a glimpse of Malik, who was standing near Paul and Nikolai. Like Pavel, but for much less reason, Malik had been disgraced and had lost his Link; he wondered what the scholar was thinking about the honor being paid to Pavel now.

It wasn't right, Chen thought. Didn't these people remember that the dead man had risked the future of the Islands to defy Earth? Didn't they know that Pavel had wanted more power for himself as well as success for the Project? Had they forgotten that Iris had paid for Pavel's miscalculations with her life? To see Pavel honored and mourned in the way Iris had been after her death seemed an obscenity.

Sigurd Kristens-Vitos should not have come to Oberg to pay his respects; it was as though the Administrator approved of Pavel's past actions. Did Sigurd think he could finish what Pavel had attempted, that he could free Venus entirely from Earth? That freedom would have to come slowly, in its own time. Much as Chen wanted such freedom himself, it would have to wait for his descendants. He had seen the price some had to pay when others reached for freedom too soon.

Women were following the men away from the mosque; his daughter was among them. He had hoped Risa would be satisfied with standing among those outside; instead, she had left the house early to be sure of a prominent place with the female mourners. She had always done as she liked, regardless of what he felt; she was like her mother in that.

He had always looked for part of Iris in Risa and had been disappointed when he could not find it. Perhaps that had driven her to confide in Pavel and to see him as another father.

Chen walked among the trees until he came to his bondmate's monument. His fingers fluttered as he remembered how he had molded Iris's face. He had wanted to capture the girl he had met in Lincoln, the one who had dreamed, but those who came here did not see that girl; they saw a self-sacrificing woman whose legend made her seem not quite human. Chen knew how human she had been and how flawed; she had never aspired to be a martyr, yet she was one now, and even he often viewed her in that way.

It was easier to believe that she had been thinking of the Project, even that she had been used by Pavel. Chen did not want to think that she had gone to the threatened dome only to save him.

He was in the airship again. His captor, the pilot called Teofila, had freed him from his bonds. Iris and Amir were still inside the dome, trying to convince the plotters to disarm the charges they had set around the dome's perimeter. The strain of the long wait showed on the pilot's face; her eyes were glassy as she stared at the panels in front of her. She clearly knew that he would not try to attack her now, not while his bondmate was inside. He could only wait and hope that Iris would make the conspirators see reason.

He strained to listen to the voices over the ship's comm. Pavel Gvishiani was saying that Earth was prepared to come to an agreement if the people in the dome dismantled their charges. Did that mean that the Administrator was giving in to their demands? Somehow Chen did not believe it.

The comm was now picking up voices from inside the dome's shelter; the conspirators seemed ready to grant Pavel the concession he wanted. They don't want to die, Chen thought. Perhaps they were too worn down by the endless hours of negotiation to care if Administrator Pavel kept his promise. Maybe they preferred risking punishment rather than accepting certain death if they carried out their threat.

He knew then that Pavel would not give them what they wanted; the man was only playing for time. Once the charges were disassembled, and the box inside the shelter that controlled the charges was taken apart, there would be nothing to prevent an attack on the dome. The Guardians probably had a way to override the controls in this bay from outside and to bring an airship in here. The conspirators would not have time to reassemble their charges; in their present state, they would hardly be able to mount much of a defense against a trained force.

Chen, along with Iris and Amir, might die during such an assault, but that would not matter to Pavel. The hostage specialists and Habbers were already free, thanks to Iris and Amir. The Administrator could sacrifice three small lives to crush the plotters and show Earth that he was still in control here.

Teofila leaned toward the comm. "They're suiting up to leave the shelter," she said. "They're going to remove the charges and take them apart. We've won, I guess." Chen wished that the pilot would be quiet so that he could hear what was going on inside. "It didn't take much, did it — just a threat. I knew they'd give in when they saw we meant what we said." Her face was sallow. He wondered if the woman had really been that ready to die.

More voices murmured over the comm; he realized then that Iris and Amir were still inside the shelter with two of the plotters. A woman was speaking; he recognized the voice of Eleanor Surrey. She had not yet surrendered her control box; the charges could still be armed. Chen was suddenly afraid.

"You two came here to wear us down," Eleanor was saying. "Pavel Gvishiani will find a way to hang on now, and you two will be showered in glory for helping him." She paused. "No."

Chen heard a thud, then a crash as something hit the floor. "Can you do anything?" Amir shouted.

"She's already armed them," the other conspirator replied. "They'll go off in five minutes."

"Listen, all of you!" That was Iris's voice; Chen caught his breath. "You've got to get to those charges fast. They're armed now. You've got to take them apart out there." The people outside the shelter would hear her voice through their suit comms. He wondered if they would listen, or would panic and try to get to the bay. "Teofila. You've got to get your ship out of the bay now. We can't reach you in time. Get away as fast as you can. If we disarm the charges, another ship can come for us. I'm closing this channel now. Farewell, Chen." She had been thinking of him all along, not just the Project's future; her voice told him that.

Teofila had decided to save herself and Chen, as Iris had clearly hoped she would. The pilot had ignored his plea that they wait. The dome had blazed with the bright white light of an explosion only a few moments after the airship lifted from the bay. Even then, he could not believe that his bondmate was gone.

He looked up at the face of Amir Azad, the Linker who had died with her. There had been other lovers for Iris while she and Chen were bondmates; Amir had loved her once. Chen's resentment and jealousy had long since faded. Iris had demonstrated her love for her bondmate in the most final way possible, and he found some solace in knowing that she had not had to face death alone. The two were now a monument to the Project, ennobled by death; love and guilt had no place in their legend.

Chen sighed. Had Iris been here now, she might have gone to the mosque with Risa and said a prayer to her own gods, Mary and Jesus, for Pavel's soul. She would have been happy that Risa was trying to have a child; Bettina had removed Risa's and Malik's implants only yesterday, just before the news of Pavel's death. Iris would have been pleased that the couple, after consulting Oberg's demographic statistics, had decided to have a daughter; female children were more valued on the Plains, and Iris, in spite of choosing to have a son earlier, had retained a few Plains prejudices. She would have sympathized with Malik; Iris had known what it was like to live in a household where intellectual pursuits were mocked or considered impractical.

He closed his eyes for a moment as he ached once again for the woman he had lost.

"Greetings, Liang Chen."

He opened his eyes. Kichi Timsen, the Guide of lshtar, stood near him; she was dressed in a plain black robe with a sash around her waist. Two young men, also wearing the sash of Ishtar, were behind her.

Chen nodded to the woman. The Guide had to be in her middle years, perhaps as old as sixty, but her light brown face was unlined and her black hair unmarked by gray strands. "Pavel is gone," Kichi said.

"I didn't think you would mourn that," Chen responded.

She lifted a brow. "You don't either, I would guess." She glanced at the image of Iris. "No, I'm marking this moment, not mourning Pavel. He saw that we would have to be free of Earth, and yet he was willing to deliver us to the Habbers. He was far from knowing the truth. Others are far from the truth as well — they don't see that the Habbers may be greater enemies of our aspirations even than Earth."

"They help us and we need them. They don't want any power over us."

"They separate themselves from planets and the Spirit that dwells within the people who live on them. They wed themselves to their technology instead of seeing it as a tool we won't need in time. Habbers would have us become no more than isolates communing with cyberminds and imagining that our world can be encompassed and bound by conscious thought, but we can't be free by closing ourselves off from part of our nature. When we're able to leave these domes, such barriers will fall away and we'll embrace the Spirit."

The Guide repelled him. Kichi had come to him years ago with her babble about Ishtar, clearly hoping to ensnare the bondmate of Iris Angharads. Her words made little sense to him, and not because he lacked the learning to understand them. He could not see any use in believing in unseen spirits, and he did not know why people would want to give up the technology that had made their visions a reality; that would be like resenting his chisels because he could not shape his pieces of wood with his bare hands.

"I've heard," he said, "that it's more than spirits you embrace." He glanced at the two men with her.

Kichi smiled. "Come to our meetings, Chen. That would ease your pain at the losses you've sustained. You can forget the son who betrayed you to join the Habbers, and the old man who let your bondmate risk her life. You can see Iris in the Spirit of this world and in the women you encounter during our rite."

She must have guessed at how troubled his thoughts would be today and imagined that he would be susceptible to her words. "If Iris were here," he said slowly, "she would have scorned your foolish talk. I won't listen to it in front of her monument."

"More will come to our way," Kichi said as he turned to leave. "Your descendants will see our truth. You'll —"

He hurried away, refusing to hear more.

*  *  *

The crowd had gathered on the plain just beyond the main dome's External Operations Center. Sigurd Kristens-Vitos stood on a low hill with arms outstretched, as if he were about to speak. Chen had intended to return to his home but had little desire either to push his way through the crowd or to detour around it. Risa and the other members of his household were near the foot of the hill, looking up at the Administrator.

"People of Oberg!" Sigurd called out. The crowd's murmurings grew softer and then faded. "It was God's will that Pavel Gvishiani suffer for the errors that he made. Yet even after his disgrace, he continued to labor for this world and won some mercy for himself when he was allowed to spend his last years among you. We can honor him for that and for his devotion to Venus before his head was turned by dreams of power. We can take consolation in knowing that God, the Compassionate and Merciful, allowed Pavel to repent, and that God ordained that Pavel should live to see the beginnings of what he wanted to build. He has won his right to a place on one of your memorial pillars."

Chen could dimly see the fair-skinned man's pleasant features. That face probably served the Administrator well, Chen thought; it was so boyish, so open and ingenuous, with wide-set eyes and a gentle mouth, that Sigurd hardly seemed capable of deception.

"I came here to say a farewell to one who once bore the burden of my responsibilities," Sigurd continued. "Even the Project Council saw no reason not to honor Pavel this day, since he atoned for his deeds. The Mukhtars will always be swift to act against treachery, but they will also forgive those who repent."

Chen's mouth twisted. He doubted that Pavel had ever regretted anything except his failure to become this world's ruler.

"I did not, however, come here only to mourn. Pavel is gone — our Project continues." Sigurd paused for a moment. "It has long pained me that Earth still distrusts us, that the Mukhtars are still mindful of the few Project pilots who fled to a Habitat decades ago and also of the man who wanted to seize the Project for himself. But that man is at peace with God, and now that we can see our world beginning to bloom inside these domes, could anyone wish to betray us by following the example of those pilots? The Habbers who labor here with us only serve our ends and those of Earth, and there is nothing to fear from them. They know that their way is not ours. They know that those who are strong enough to become Cytherians will never surrender power to Habbers, and Earth is coining to see that as well."

Chen recognized most of the people in the crowd by sight; there seemed to be no Habbers among the mourners. He looked toward the round windowless building where some of the Habbers working in Oberg lived, and saw no one standing outside. Some claimed that Habbers could extend their lives past any normal span. The story could not be proved because no Habber had remained with the Project for more than two or three decades, but seeing Benzi's youthful face on his screen had lent some credence to such tales. A funeral might seem meaningless to Habbers.

Perhaps the Habbers were not so wise as they sometimes seemed. Malik had once spoken to Chen of past times, before the rise of the Nomarchies, when well-meaning people with an abundance of resources had tried to help those who had little. Sometimes, such efforts had been successful, but often they had created other problems — people who tried to emulate the more powerful culture only to become alienated from their own people, dependence on the gifts of the wealthier culture, even the destruction of the weaker one.