Six Moon Dance (37 page)

“Then the Men of Business … they are right?” Her voice sounded incredulous and shrill. She cleared her throat. “I thought … I thought perhaps they had overstated the case.”

“No,” murmured Questioner. “I am amazed the Temple is still standing after that shaking this morning.”

“When we took over the building, it was retroengineered to withstand earthquake,” muttered Onsofruct. “Most of the larger buildings in Sendoph and Naibah were either reinforced or designed to be quake resistant from inception. There are always … tremors.”

“Ah …” said Questioner. “Madam, this may sound quite silly to you, but do you have any legends or myths concerning this shaking? Hmmm?”

“Legends?” she faltered.

“Most societies have stories about natural phenomena: volcanoes, waterfalls, windstorms, whatever. Fire goddesses; wind gods; ocean deities. You have been upon this world long enough to accumulate a mythology. Do you recall any such?”

“I do,” came a voice from behind them.

They turned to see D’Jevier, who was observing Onsofruct with troubled eyes.

“My cousin,” murmured Onsofruct.

“D’Jevier Passenger,” the new arrival introduced herself. “We are close cousins, yes, but we did not share all aspects of our rearing. My cousin may not have heard a children’s story that I remember well. Did you ever hear it, Onsy? About the snake at the center of the world?”

Onsofruct flushed and glared at her sibling, who only smiled in return, saying: “Though it may be embarrassing to recount a … nursery tale, the matter does seem to be of some urgency. Surely the Questioner would not ask if it were not important.”

Some signal passed between them. Onsofruct flushed again, began a retort, then caught herself, mumbling, “Oh … well. Yes, I remember hearing it. But my cousin is correct, it’s only a children’s story. A fairy tale.”

“Tell it,” instructed the Questioner. “Sometimes we find truth in the unlikeliest places.”

“Well … let me see. The Summer Snake is curled in the center of the world, like a baby snake in an egg….”

“Why is it called Summer Snake?” asked Questioner.

“Because that is when it came,” said D’Jevier. “It came in summer, and its name is Niasa.”

“You mean, then is when it was laid?” asked Ellin.

“Laid, I suppose.
Came
is what I remember.”

Onsofruct resumed: “… And there are moon dragons, Joggiwagga, who keep track of the moons, for when the moons get lined up and pushy, it makes Niasa uneasy and wakeful, and the egg shakes. So then its mother soothes …”

“Not the mother,” D’Jevier corrected. “It was Bofusdiaga.”

“I thought Bofusdiaga was its mother.” Onsofruct frowned.

“No. Don’t you recall? She was the mother, and Little Niasa was the egg. Big Summer Snake laid her egg at the center of the world, where it is nice and warm. And when she hears Little Niasa crying, she cries also, very loudly, and then the Corojumi and Bofusdiaga hear her….”

“Who or what are they?” murmured Ellin.

D’Jevier shook her head, shrugging. “Bofusdiaga is something very large and singular. The Corojumi are smaller and numerous. In the stories, Bofusdiaga is the sleep tender, the one who lullabies, and the Corojumi weave the dreams that keep the snake from waking. Also, Bofusdiaga sets the sails, and the Corojumi hold the tiller, or other way round, and they sail the ship of dreams across the pillared seas to Niasa’s nest.”

“They want to
keep
the snake from waking?” asked Ellin.

“Yes.” Both the cousins nodded. “So it won’t hatch too soon.”

“And from whom did you hear this charming story?” asked the Questioner.

A momentary stillness.

“Our … nursemaids,” said D’Jevier. “When we were little.”

“And what were their names?”

“Mine died,” said Onsofruct.

Questioner glanced at her aides and smiled, a sardonic smile that said she knew they were lying.

D’Jevier said, in a tone of bright and totally spurious helpfulness, “Mine was a nice old lady, but she also died, years ago. Her name was Velgin. Emily Velgin. She didn’t have any family. She was sterile. She never married.”

“Her parents are no doubt dead, too,” murmured the Questioner. “And all her family.”

“Certainly.” They said it almost together, both nodding.

Questioner rose, still smiling, thanking them fulsomely, letting them know with every movement and word that she knew they were liars of the worst stripe, whom she would pretend to believe for the nonce, for reasons of her own. As they moved toward the curtained arches, the floor came alive beneath them, dancing under their feet. High in the vault, a window cracked, then broke, shedding a shower of tinkling ruby glass.

“Perhaps Little Niasa has colic.” Questioner smiled. She had thrown her protective cape across Ellin at the first shiver. “Perhaps it writhes helplessly, seeking to escape evil dreams. Night terrors, as they are sometimes called. If Big Niasa could waken it, perhaps it could be soothed, given hot milk and a cookie. Or, since it is reptilian, a live mouse.”

She lifted her arm, releasing Ellin.

“Perhaps,” said D’Jevier, her forehead beaded with tiny drops, her hand clammy when Ellin grasped it as they said good-bye. Bao waited for them outside on the steps of the Temple, his own face fearful. They felt three more tremors of descending degrees of violence on their way back to Mantelby.

Where they confronted rebellion.

“Look at this,” snarled the protocol officer, waving a copy of the geological report. “I’ve just had a chance to read it. It says the world is going to come apart. We aren’t required to sit here and wait for it, are we?”

“Is it indeed?” Questioner was calm as she removed the cloak. “Would you like to leave the planet?”

“We should all go at once.”

“I am inclined to agree that you should, yes. I am staying here for the time being. I imagine, though I am not certain, that Ellin and Bao will choose to stay with me. That is no reason, however, why the other members of my entourage should remain here. Your work is largely done. You will no doubt be more comfortable on the ship, and I should be able to maintain a link with the ship while it remains safely in orbit.”

For a fleeting moment, Ellin readied herself to shout a denial. She would go, go at once, not stay, things were too dangerous. She tried to formulate a graceful announcement that wouldn’t sound like total hysteria, but the words wouldn’t come. Why not? Could it be that she didn’t want to go? After a moment’s shuddering indecision, she admitted it to herself. She wanted to … to feel like this. She had never felt like this, tingling like this. Absurdly, she remembered the little boy who had wanted tornadoes! He had been right! She also wanted tornadoes. She wanted to see what was going to happen.

Turning, she caught Bao’s eyes on her and flushed. He had told her to put out roots and grow, and now he was watching her do it! He made a comical face and winked at her, accurately interpreting her confusion.

The protocol officer departed, returning briefly to say that all eight of them were leaving for the shuttle and would return to the ship immediately.

“And you’re really going to let them go?” asked Ellin.

“Have they contributed anything to our inquiry? The technicians—who are not political appointees, thank whomever arranged it—have given us considerable help, but they’ve done it from orbit and can go on doing so. So long as we can reach the ship, what do we need these people for?”

“I am not seeing why you are having those people in the first place,” sniffed Bao.

Questioner laughed, a mirthless bark. “My dear young people, they are foisted upon me. A century or so ago, the Council of Worlds decided that providing me with an entourage would open up opportunities for some of their juvenile kinfolk. Many of the functions of COW are cluttered up with witless fetchers and carriers who are somehow related to council members. A pity Haraldson never forbade nepotism!”

“If you are not needing them, are you really needing us?” Bao asked.

“I am. I really need nonthreatening persons with alert, questioning minds and enough good sense to spot the oddities. Thus far, you’ve done well. So, let us proceed.”

A Mantelby servant came in to announce that dinner was served in the adjacent salon, to which Questioner, Ellin, and Bao immediately repaired to indulge themselves in a long, elaborate, and delicious meal. The servants had just set dessert on the table—a fluffy concoction of fruits and cream which Ellin had been looking forward to with delicious guilt since it had appeared on the morning menu card—when the link to the ship announced itself.

Bao spoke to the Gablian watch officer, who asked for the staff member who was handling the geological reports.

Bao informed the ship that the entire staff should be aboard. A long silence presaged a denial by the watch officer that any of the staff members were anywhere on the ship.

Questioner rose and approached the link. “Commander, I sent all my entourage except the two young Earthians back to the ship some hours ago.”

“I was alerted to expect them. They never arrived.”

“Hold fast,” suggested the Questioner. “Let’s see what we can find out here.” She turned to Bao and Ellin, putting on an exasperated face. “Would you mind, young people? Go see what’s holding them up?”

Ellin had a mouth full of delight and her eyes shut. Reluctantly, she swallowed.

“You, a dancer, consuming such stuff!” said Questioner in mock reproof.

“I know,” Ellin cried guiltily. “But then, I keep thinking it might be the last chance I ever have.”

“Last chance, child?”

Seduced by food and wine, her thoughts burst out without censor. “Oh, Questioner, something’s building to a climax! I keep hearing the music for it, all those tremorous violins, the slow descending basses, each note deeper into the fabric of the world, the brasses, muted, like voices calling in a dark wood….”

“All day she has been hearing this, nodding her head in time to this music,” confirmed Bao. “I am finding it quite interesting.”

Questioner nodded, unimpressed by this idea. “Very poetic, my dear, but hardly your last chance. Your dessert will wait for you.”

As they departed, Questioner tasted the dessert and approved. It was not necessary to eat more than one taste, as she could recall the flavor and texture at will. Which she did as she sat, musing, going over everything she had learned on this planet. She had already decided mankind could not be allowed to continue on Newholme. The presence of indigenes was uncontrovertible. If mankind had settled in ignorance of their presence, they should have reported it the moment the first indigenes showed up. The fact they had not condemned them, and she had no intention of arguing with Haraldson’s edicts. And then there was this viral disease that constricted the female population….

But there were other riddles still to be solved, interesting habits, like the reverse veiling and the Consorts, and there was also this strange geological business….

Gradually it occurred to her that a very long time had passed since Ellin and Bao had left in search of the members of the entourage.

A steward was summoned and asked to go find Bao and Ellin. He departed, veils flapping. After a short time, he returned. The Questioner’s aides were nowhere to be seen. Neither were any other of the Questioner’s people. The last anyone had seen of
them
was when an understeward had served a light meal in their salon some time ago while they were packing. Their salon was now empty of persons. None of them had asked for transportation. They had not set out on foot or they would have been seen.

Questioner told him to wait outside, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Now what? Before she had a chance to think, Marool Mantelby was at the door. Her staff had advised her of this strange disappearance. Could she offer any help?

Questioner, regarding the woman with close attention, saw that she panted, her skin was flushed and her eyes darted in heightened excitement of a feral sort.

“I think it likely they have gone off on some expedition of their own,” murmured Questioner.

“Then … they may be gone for some little while?” asked Marool, licking the corner of her lips.

“Does this cause some domestic disruption?”

“Not at all. I merely … wondered.”

The Questioner smiled her meaningless, social smile. “Do not fret over it, Madam Mantelby. I’m sure all will be explained.”

Marool bowed her way out with suspicious alacrity, Questioner staring after her, trying to decipher what the woman was up to. The understeward was still standing in the hall, and Questioner beckoned to him through the open door.

“Ma’am,” he said respectfully.

“Will you lead me to the the quarters where our missing staff members stayed?”

The understeward bowed and led the way out into the wide, deeply carpeted corridor. The suite given over to the staff members was on the same level, though around several corners and down a long side corridor almost to the end. At the door, Questioner told the understeward to wait while she went in. There she stood looking slowly around herself. All the belongings one would expect were there, some neatly packed into cases, others piled ready for packing.

Questioner approached the wall, examining it with sensors in the tips of her fingers, moving along it, centimeter by centimeter. After a time, she touched an ornamental cartouche and stepped back as the wall swung open. She looked through into a passageway that ran in both directions behind the wall. Questioner touched the cartouche again, and the wall closed silently upon itself.

“I read no evidence that mankind has ever been in that corridor,” she murmured to herself, as she did sometimes when alone, impressing the things she saw into memory with the words she spoke. “No Earthian, no settler, none of my non-Earthian aides. There is evidence of some other living thing, however. The same living things I sensed in the little houses behind the gardener’s quarters.”

She moved around the room, trying several other manipulations with similar effect. At the fourth hidden door she said to herself, “Here. They went in here. I can smell them. All of them. I scent Ellin’s perfume.” She shut the opening and turned away, eyes unfocused.