Pandora's Genes (16 page)

There were two sleepy-looking guards at the gate. The older of them, a black girl of perhaps twenty, opened her mouth in fright when she saw him. Her hand reached for her sword, but she stopped as his voice rang out.

“Tell your mayor that the Principal is here,” he said. “Go! I won’t enter till you return.”

With a frightened glance backward, the second guard, little older than a child, followed the first. He grimaced in disgust. Clearly he had made the right decision. Ill-trained, skittish women could not be trusted to guard this most valuable outpost of his empire.

Presently a tall, strong-looking young woman with thick blond braids, wearing armor of leather, strode toward the gate. Her right arm was in a sling, the left just touched her sword, a museum piece made of polished bronze. Behind her were the two other, smaller women.

“I am Katha, mayor of the Garden,” she said. “What do you want?”

“Do you know who I am?’ he asked.

“You are the Principal, or so you told the guard. From the look of you, I have no reason to doubt it. I repeat: what do you want?”

Her tone set his teeth on edge, bringing back dark memories. He wanted to strike her down and march in over her body. He took three slow, deep breaths, then said, “We have come to evacuate you. The District is under attack by barbarians from the west.”

“We know about the barbarians,” said Katha evenly. “And we thank you for your offer, but there is no need. We can defend ourselves.”

If all of them were like her, the Principal thought, they no doubt could. “I’ve picked out a site for you near the Capital,” he went on. “If you don’t like it, you may choose another. I will give you as many men as you need to help move your things and to rebuild.”

“We will not leave,” she said.

Again the Principal had to hold in his anger. “Unless this place has greatly changed,” he said, “this is not something that you can decide yourself. Call a council together and let me speak.”

The woman gazed at him a moment, her hazel eyes showing a flicker of what might be fear. She nodded. “Very well. It will be this evening. You alone will be our guest for dinner. Afterward, we will talk.”

“I’ll return at sunset,” he said. Then: “One more thing. I must see the Mistress.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Tell her I asked. It is for her to decide.” Again the woman nodded, and he turned, aware that the struggle had only begun.

The interior compound was far larger than when he had seen it last, with more shelters, although some of the original buildings still stood. The gardens to the west were in darkness, but the fading light showed the old laboratory and the animal pens as they had been. The largest building, a long, low structure of hewn logs, stood where the old, smaller dormitories had been. It had three large windows with panes of oiled sheepskin, and an ornately carved lintel above the wide door-way. The building was impossibly bigger than any new structure in the Capital, its window frames and neatly shingled roof as carefully wrought as if it had been constructed before the Change. Just behind and to the side was a more crudely made, tiny cabin with faint light shining behind worn, familiar shutters.

He looked away from the cabin and sucked in air, willing it to cool the bubble of nausea in his chest. He would remain calm; he would not allow these women to know how deeply he was affected by being here.

The door was opened by Katha herself. He was almost overwhelmed by the concentrated, humid smell of women and children. Conversation stopped as he entered, then a moment later a high-pitched buzz of voices began again. He felt as if he had entered a hive of alien insects, all darting about or hovering above wooden perches. He sat at a bench Katha indicated, and gratefully accepted a cup of warm brew, gulping at it to clear his head. The girl who had brought it was no more than sixteen, but she already had the hard, wary look of women who grew up in the Garden. A casual glance around the room showed more of the same: competent, tough, and deadly females. These were more capable than any before in history, the Principal was sure, even in the days before the Change, when women had been equal in numbers to men and, incredibly, had held leadership positions alongside them. Such a thing could never again be, of course, but he had to admit that the women of the Garden had proved they were at least capable of ruling themselves.

He held his cup for more brew, and Katha raised an eyebrow. “I see you like our brew. We make it from a new-grain we’ve developed recently.”

The Principal forced his mind to remain steady against the irrational fear of new-plants and animals, the terror of wild deenas personified in the nightmares of children. It was all nonsense, of course, but the Principal had always understood why so many of his population feared anything that smacked of science. Anyone who had seen a poison-bat or a new-goat could only shudder at the small, invisible monsters that created such deadly changes. No wonder two generations had incorporated fear of deenas into the ancient religions.

With the idea of contamination by deenas still in the back of his mind, the Principal made an effort to establish conversation. I see things have changed very little,” he said.

“We’ve grown in numbers,” said Katha. “Most of the women you see here are the senior council. With younger women and children, and those who live outside the compound, we are one hundred twenty-six altogether. Of course, in the most important ways we haven’t changed at all – as you will find out.”

He looked carefully at her. Was she trying to provoke him? Her face told him nothing. She went on, in the same calm tone: “I relayed your request to our Mistress. She always dines alone in her quarters, but she will see you after dinner.”

The Principal nodded. At mention of the old woman his nausea had returned, and he fought an impulse to walk out, to return to the Capital and let the Garden and all around it be overrun by barbarians. He drained the second cup of brew.

“You must be very thirsty from your journey,” said Katha. Again he looked at her sharply, but said nothing. Although none of the perhaps two dozen others had yet addressed him directly, he felt conspicuous, aware of the many eyes in the room examining him as if he were a specimen under one of their microscopes, no doubt hating him for what they had heard about him. He realized with a sudden shock that many of the women here – perhaps as many as half a dozen – were pregnant. That had been rare in the old days. There was something obscene about so many gravid women with no men around.

Just as Katha announced dinner, there was a commotion in the kitchen, and he heard a scrabbling, sliding sound, followed by high-pitched laughter. He watched in astonishment as a fat, furry animal came skittering out after a piece of sliced carrot, both of them colliding with the screen in front of the fire.

The Principal gaped. “Is that a fox-cat?”

“The first tame one we’ve ever seen,” said Katha. “It was raised by one of our new members. Lisa, put Baby out.”

The girl who had been serving brew set down her pitcher and approached the small animal, beckoning and clucking. The Principal watched in fascination. A tame fox-cat was important news, and that it had been accomplished here was all the more reason to move the women to safety. It soon became apparent that the little animal didn’t want to go outside. Whenever Lisa got close to it, the fox-cat moved sideways or backward, always just out of reach. The other women were smiling, hiding laughter with their hands, as Lisa became ever more frustrated. Even the Principal was amused, although slightly uneasy whenever the animal came near to him. Lisa took a piece of cheese from a tray on the mantelpiece and held it enticingly to the fox-cat. It approached, sniffed at her outstretched fingers, then suddenly leaped into the air, turning completely around, and scampered under the massive wooden table at the far end of the room.

“Deenas take you, Baby!” said Lisa. “Evvy, come get your pet,” she called to the kitchen.

After a moment another girl emerged from the kitchen and swiftly knelt on the floor just in front of the kitchen door, her dark hair hiding her face. The Principal turned to watch as the girl scooped the fox-cat up in her arms, then turned back to the kitchen.

Sorry that the diversion had ended, he held his cup for more brew, and then he felt something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The sensation was so strong that he could not help but turn his head, and his eyes met those of the young girl. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, holding the fox-cat to her chest, and gazing at him with a frightening intensity. Her eyes were the color of plums and her face was so lovely it made the Principal dizzy. When she met his eyes it was with a look of recognition, and he knew that she knew him, but not how. She turned and slipped into the kitchen, but even when the door had shut, the Principal felt her presence in the room.

Katha gave him a curious look as she refilled his cup, but said nothing. His heart was racing as if he had just ridden at top speed. He thought of dozens of questions to ask, all casual, all seemingly innocent, and all brutally obvious. He said nothing.

He ate his dinner of roasted new-fowl, vegetable stew, and baked roots quickly, without tasting it. His metal cup was refilled more times than he could count with the sweetish flower wine he remembered, and there seemed to be much conversation and laughter throughout the meal, although he scarcely listened. Hilda, a pale, middle-aged woman who was the chief farmer, questioned him about growing conditions and new-plants and animals near the Capital. He answered her automatically, scarcely registering the possible significance of the questions: his mind was fixed on the extraordinary young girl. No matter what the outcome of the council meeting tonight, no matter how he evacuated the women, be it voluntarily or through force, no matter if the fate of the entire District depended on it, the Principal was determined of one thing: he had to have that girl.

So focused were his thoughts that he had trouble bringing his mind to the business at hand when Katha rose and said, “I’ll take you now to see the Mistress.”

The old woman. He’d almost forgotten about her. The food in his stomach churned. This evening was as unsettling as a long night of dreams and nightmares. First, the beautiful young girl, and now the old woman. Perhaps a bargain could be worked out. . . . Even as the thought sprang to his mind, he knew that it was impossible, that the very last place on earth he could bargain for a girl was among the women of the Garden. He would have to take her some other way, by a trick, perhaps, or by force. But take her he would.

He filled his chest deeply with the chill night air as they approached the door of the old woman’s cabin. Katha knocked and, in response to a quiet “Come in,” opened the door.

“The Principal is here, Mistress,” Katha said.

She was sitting on a chair by the fire, a blue-spined book in her hands. The Principal felt nothing when he saw her, only surprise that she was so old. None of the anticipated rage appeared, none of the hatred. He approached her slowly and inclined his head. “Good evening, old woman,” he said.

The Mistress looked up. “Welcome home, Will,” she said.

I
T WAS ALMOST AS IF
he had never left. There was a sense of familiarity so total that it was displayed as formality. Whatever feelings they had once held for each other now lay buried beneath the conventions.

“I congratulate you,” she said. “You’ve done everything you set out to do.”

“Almost everything. The most important part of my plans still depends on your work.” He glanced around the tiny, cluttered room. The shadows, the furnishings, the faint odor at once stale and faintly spicy – all were exactly as they had been nearly twenty years ago.

“I’ve been expecting this for some time,” she said quietly. “But not you, personally.”

“I wanted to accomplish the evacuation without force. I didn’t think you would listen to anybody but me.” He paused, then had to say it: “Zach is missing. Probably dead.”

“I know,” she said, without changing expression.

He started. How could she know? Plainly, she wasn’t going to tell him, but the accusation in her eyes told him that she held him in some way responsible. The deenas take her.

“I’ve postponed this move as long as I could,” he said. “These rebels – or whatever they are – are spreading. Refugees are beginning to come into the Capital, especially from this area. I can’t leave you here, so close to the border.”

“And the Garden will make you an impregnable fortress. You’ve only been waiting for an excuse to take it.”

He shook his head in annoyance. “It’s true that this place serves my purposes better as an army post. But that’s not the point. Protecting your work is the important thing. Since I deposed the President, there’s been no need for you to stay in such a remote area.”

“What if we refuse to go?”

“I have an army of over two hundred men.”

“Will you kill us all, then, and destroy our work?”

“You would never let that happen.”

“It’s not up to me,” she said, her eyes flashing.

“I know better,” he said. “I know that if you talk to the women and explain why they must go, they will do as you ask. And you know it too.”

The old woman sat silently for several minutes. Finally, she spoke. “Two nights ago we fought off the most serious attack in decades. We are more capable than you imagine, but I’m beginning to fear we haven’t the resources to be both scientists and warriors.”

“You’ll persuade the council?”

“I can’t be sure all the women will agree. Katha, in particular, is not likely to give in easily. But I’ll speak to them.”

He relaxed. Thank the deenas it would not come to a fight. Up until this very moment he had not been certain how she would react. They sat in silence a moment. The old woman looked very tired. “How did you learn about Zach?” he asked.

“What I know and how I know it is no concern of yours,” she said.

His face flushed with instant anger. He stood and walked to the other end of the room, breathing deeply. Aware of her eyes on him, he touched some of the articles on her laboratory table: an ancient microscope, a precious glass flask, some tiny, sharp metal knives. “I will stay and supervise the transition,” he said, not looking at her. “Then I must return to the Capital. My men are camped in the clearing at the bottom of the hill,” He paused a moment, not certain exactly what he was going to say next. “My men are well disciplined,” he said then. “I’ll instruct them to leave the women alone. But I can’t be responsible for the actions of the women.”