The Family Tree (43 page)

“Your Excellency is most kind,” Dora said. “And your gift to the umminhi is a measure of your great generosity. Abby and I have just been speaking together, and we would like to join the umminhi in the transmontaine.”

Abby added, “If they will have us. Building a new country is an exciting prospect.”

The emperor nodded benevolently. “I see. I think that is a good choice. If, however, you should ever have needs that cannot be met in the transmontaine, feel free to call upon me.” He gestured the secretary away and sat back, seeming almost to forget they were there for a little time. They began to chat together, falling silent when they became aware he was looking at Dora, his hand beckoning.

Dora went over to him. “Your Excellency?”

“I feel very foolish, but I do not understand this business of the atonement. Do you?”

Dora shook her head. “I assumed it was atonement for the way in which humans treated other creatures, Your Excellency. But there does seem to be something more to it than that.”

“Will he talk to me, do you think? Vorn? I do not wish to pry, or frighten him, but I am very interested in finding out about it.”

“Oh, yes, Your Excellency. I know you’re accustomed to thinking of the umminhi as uncivilized, but they’re really very…well mannered. Let me bring him over.”

Which she did, along with Izzy, and the four of them wandered out onto a balcony that looked down onto the gardens and over the garden wall into the streets of Gulp, where the people moved about in all their variety.

Faros, however, did not broach the question of the atonement, instead he led Izzy and Vorn into a deep and complicated discussion about city management, and after a time Dora slipped along the balcony to the place where Abby stood, looking out over the city. They leaned on the railing together, arm in arm, while Faros VII led the conversation on into various channels, his furry voice bumbling along, poking its nose into subject after subject, with Vorn and Izzy following after like two cubs. Dora listened with amusement and respect. Faros was being disarming. He would get to the subject in his own good time.

Finally the emperor moved one great arm, flinging wide his green velvet cape, letting it fall into watery folds around his soft boots. “A thing I’ve wondered about over and over, Prince Izakar. Did you ever find out who it was who started the great plague, all those thousands of years ago?”

Izzy bowed slightly. “I didn’t, Your Excellency.”

Vorn hummed in his throat, a troubled sound.

Faros VII nodded ponderously. “Ah. I was thinking about it today. Actually, Vorn, it was you made me think of it.”

“Really, Your Excellency.” His face was very pale and strained.

“Yes, yes. It was this umminhi atonement that made me think of it. You might be interested in my thoughts?”

Vorn looked down, without replying.

“Of course, Your Excellency,” said Izzy, with a puzzled glance at Vorn. “Very interested.”

“My thoughts had to do with guilt. I am interested in guilt. I have had a recent experience with guilt. My nephew had to be…disciplined. No. Let us not use polite words for unpleasant reality. He felt it was more important to be true to his nature than to create a peaceful world. His nature was a violent one, which wished to rule at all costs. There was only one way to stop him eating people, which was to kill him. I feel very guilty
about it, even though it had to be done. He was not merely a person who had gone wrong. He was family. I feel that I must atone—to my sister’s memory, perhaps.

“Now, if I had had to kill a few pheledas, or perhaps some scuini, I would feel sad and guilty, yes. I would feel I had fallen short of my own ideals and should resolve to do better, but I would not feel this same great sorrow. You follow me?”

Vorn made a sound, a painful grating in his throat.

Faros went on. “Atonement is a remedy for sorrow for one’s behavior, sorrow over something deeper than mere shortcoming. A great atonement, three millennia of atonement, must be based on a very great sorrow. Wouldn’t you say so, Vorn?”

Vorn nodded reluctantly.

Faros echoed the nod. “So I questioned, what great guilt could have been incurred by the umminhi? More than mere unconscionable behavior to—well, animals? Something they would feel was greater, far greater than that?”

From the place down the balcony where they had been listening, Dora and Abby, suddenly alert, turned and moved toward the others.

The emperor laid one hand on Vorn’s shoulder, lifting his face with the other hand. “The plague was already well advanced by the time Izzy and the others went back, wasn’t it? If Dora and Abby had stayed, they would have died of it, would they not?”

Vorn bowed his head, saying in a strained voice, “Yes. Our people got the idea from another plague that happened about that same time, one that lay hidden for decades before the dying began. The one my people designed was, indeed, underway. So our teachings say. Dora and Abby would have died.”

“Your forefathers, the Korèsans, made sure that Dora and Abby came to this time. It wasn’t accident, was it? They were saved, because of the great help they had given?”

“Yes.”

“What?” cried Abby, lost.

“Was the plague the only way?” asked Faros, very gently. “Are you sure it was the only way?”

Vorn made a dry, gulping sound, a swallowed sob. “Oh, Your Excellency, don’t you think I’ve asked that? Don’t you think all of us have asked that, century after century! The trees fighting back, Korè rising up like that…we hadn’t counted on that! Would that have worked? We don’t know, for by the time the trees rose up, we had already acted and there was no way to undo it! Was there any other way? We’d already tried every other way….”

Dora came to him, put her arms around him. “Shhh,” she said. “Oh, Vorn, don’t weep! You’ve atoned enough!” She looked into the emperor’s face. “Of course
their
people tried every other way. But there were more of the other people! The ones who didn’t care!”

“You’re sure?” Faros persisted.

“I was there!” she cried. “Abby was there! Nobody listened. The human babies kept coming. The forests kept burning. The oceans were fished dry. The whales and the cheetahs and the pandas kept going extinct! Ask Abby! Nobody listened.”

Abby said, “Dora. What are you talking about?” He pulled her away from Vorn and held her tightly, looking almost angrily at the emperor, who stood there, shaking his huge head, sympathy in his eyes.

Dora cried, “It was the only way, Abby. It really was. I don’t blame Vorn Dionne for doing it. People would have figured out how to kill the new trees. They were already working on it….”

The emperor put his hand on Vorn’s shoulder and patted it, staggering the man with its weight. From inside the room, several umminhi came to lead Vorn away, murmuring to him in brokenhearted voices.

In the circle of Abby’s arms, Dora muttered, “There’s the garden, Abby. And there’s the bindweed. And unless you’re ruthless, the bindweed always wins!”

“By Korè,” whispered Izzy. “By Korè!”

“Remarkable,” said the emperor in a tone of enormous satisfaction. “Quite remarkable.”