WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) (34 page)

Lindha gave him more alcohol, which Ash took with gratitude. Befuddled, head already spinning, Ash drained the cup. The misery of thinking he would never be able to court Lindha made him want to drink himself into a stupor.

There was a tap on the door. “Come,” Lindha said.

It was Tjeeha. “Lady,” she said as she burst in. Observing that Ash was awake, she held her tongue.

“Another pretty Lady!” Ash exclaimed in disbelief. “Oh, Chinters. Are you sure I’m not dead?”

Lindha held his head and met him eye to eye, forcing him to pay attention. When she spoke there was the steel of command in her voice. “You are not dead. You are not dreaming. But you do need to be quiet. I need to speak to this Temple Sister.”

Lindha’s face swam outlandishly, but Ash understood. Contrite, he nodded.

The Lady Tjeeha stared uncertainly at Ash. “It’s all right, Tjeeha.” Lindha said firmly. “We have no secrets from the Trueborn,”

Trueborn?
Ash thought in confusion.
How did she know that he was Trueborn?
As far as he knew that was solely a Delian term. What would an off-worlder know of being Trueborn? He frowned, realizing that he must have said something earlier, but he couldn’t recall. He was Trueborn, but his love was stillborn. Ash caught himself. He was also lovesick and thinking in stupid rhymes. What’s more, it was becoming clear to him that he was very, very drunk.

“Lady,” Tjeeha began. “There is a worldwide search occurring at this moment for the, ah, Trueborn.” She looked down fearfully at Ash. “It is said that the off-worlder killed many tame herd beasts in the mountains. He is considered to be out of his mind, as well as dangerous and cruel.”

Ash began to giggle. “Oh, that’s funny. A faultless illustration of Jana’s parable, isn’t it? ‘One always accuses others of what they themselves are guilty of.’” Ash didn’t stop his silly giggling until the Lady Lindha silenced him with a hand on his shoulder and a stern look.

“I see,” Lindha said to Tjeeha. Her expression hardened. “I was afraid of this. Quickly. Go and give a message to the Lady Carrah. Tell her that I request an audience immediately.”

“But, Prefect, she’s in the chapel.”

Lindha’s lips pressed together in disapproval, visibly displeased with having her orders questioned. “Thank you, Tjeeha. I am well aware of that fact. However, I need her here. Now.”

“Yes, Prefect.” Red faced, fully cognizant of the rebuke, she left to carry out her orders.

Ash was now hopelessly drunk and his attentions were all toward the Prefect. “Lindha, Lindha, Lindha,” he slurred in a little tuneless melody. “Lovely, lovely Lindha, with the lovely golden hair.”

“Ash,” Lindha said testily, stopping his distracting song. “Drink,” she commanded. She offered him more spirits, which effectively prevented him from continuing to sing. Ash finished another cup. Then he shut his eyes and relaxed into a deep, deep sleep.

The choosing of a Temple Novice is simple. Deportment, countenance, and manner: these can be taught. Courage, dedication, integrity, and honor: these develop naturally through living with other Sisters of Jana. Beauty is easily fashioned and must never be ignored. Facial features, hair, teeth, skin: few Novices escape cosmetic adjustment. Physical perfection is paramount but unproblematic. So, from the thousands of candidates, how to discriminate? Take a female child, preferably six years or younger, and let them hold the Damithst. If the gem reacts the child will succeed as a Temple Sister.

— Sister Fayha Cattell,
Notes on the Novice

J
eeha nodded toward Ash and said, “He’s out.”

‘Are you sure?” Lindha said hopefully, but she remained unconvinced. “By the Goddess, he’s been such a trial.”

Jeeha nodded her agreement. “Very difficult,” she laughed, “for you.” She gave Linda a wry, teasing smile as she pulled a long stitch through Ash’s skin. “I don’t think the Trueborn was as taken with me as he was with you, Prefect.”

Lindha rolled her eyes. “I noticed that, too.” She gave Ash’s arm a pinch, just to make sure, but it didn’t wake him. The Trueborn was asleep. Lindha grinned, pleased that he had fallen into unconsciousness. She looked up at Jeeha. When their eyes met they both laughed out loud.

“Prefect,” Jeeha said, “May I ask why you told the Trueborn that you had taken vows of chastity?”

Lindha shrugged. “Just to give myself time, I guess. He was so relentless and truthfully he made me uncomfortable with all that attention.” Her comment concerning chastity, while not a lie, had been intentionally misleading. The Seer’s prophecy was explicit. The Prefect was chaste by Temple order; but only until the Trueborn came or until the age of thirty. It was the duty of the Prefect to serve the Trueborn in whatever way required, including sexually if that was his desire. She met Jeeha’s eyes and snickered. “I doubt he will remember anything, we got him so drunk.”

“Indeed.” Jeeha gave a soft chuckle. “I’m just glad he wasn’t sick.”

Lindha hadn’t known how to deal with Ash or how to make him silent. As Prefect, no one had dared attempt to charm her before, or even called her beautiful. She was not naive, she had been trained in the sexual arts extensively, but the post of Prefect was inviolate, and she had always been treated with the utmost respect. The way Ash made constant romantic advances, well. She had no experience of such a thing. Awake he was a handful; asleep he looked peaceful and kind of sweet. As if he would be no trouble at all. She knew his sleeping appearance was deceiving. The man was going to be nothing but trouble.

There was another tap at the door, and Lady Carrah entered. “Prefect?” Carrah queried, her face pale and drawn. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, thank you, Carrah,” Lindha said. “Please, sit down.” Lindha studied the Lady Carrah for a moment. She was a slim woman. Her face was elvan, her hair tinged with flecks of orange and red, her skin transparent. Her eyes were light brown, and there was a sprinkling of freckles on her face. Carrah was on a list to have her freckles removed. Twice she had “forgotten” to attend the facial appointments. She had never voiced that she did not look approvingly upon the ordered physical alteration: she just had not turned up. Her manner of achieving goals was at one with her personality, subtle and unassuming

Lindha hesitated, unsure of how to begin. It was cruel to make this request, but the timing had been provident. Dwanne and Carrah were orphaned young and forced to sign an Indentureship with a private enterprise, hand harvesting fennel. Fennel was valuable for its properties, which yielded a unique form of absinthe. It was difficult to harvest without damaging the next crop. Lightweight children with small nimble fingers increased production and future yield. A Temple sister had seen Carrah and bought out her Indentureship. The child had sobbed, pleading that she would die without her brother. Thus Dwanne’s Indentureship had been purchased as well.

Lindha said, “Tell me, Carrah, was your brother a believer?”

“Yes, Prefect, surely.”

“Carrah, this man is the Trueborn and, as in the Legend, he is an off-worlder.”

Carrah drew in a sharp breath but said nothing.

“However, he is in danger. Even now men are searching for him. I need your help.”

“Of course, Prefect, anything. But how? What can I do?”

“I need your brother’s body.”

“No,”
she said in a shocked sort of whisper.

“Yes. I know he lies in state. Tell me, do you actually believe that empty shell holds your brother?”

Carrah remained silent.

“He is dead, and unless reborn, he is with Jana. Dwanne would be pleased to find that his cast-off shell was used to good purpose and we need it. The medical superintendent will attest to DNA and fingerprints. If his remains are found at the bottom of a cliff … if one of our sisters confirms that he had an off-world accent, then the Trueborn will be safe.” Lindha paused, ensuring Carrah understood. “If no corpse is found then the guards will continue their search, and our Temple, all of us, will be in danger.”

“But will Dwanne not even have a grave?”

“I cannot tell you where his earthly form will finally rest, Carrah. I am sorry, but it will not be here at the Temple, and it will not be under his own name. You will not be able to visit the place.”

Carrah’s large eyes were wide. Her pale face showed her shock.

Lindha waited for a moment, for the impact of what she had said to fully sink in. Her expression was solemn. “What would Dwanne say if you could ask him now?”

Carrah looked up, eyes bright with welling tears. “Yes, of course, Prefect,” her voice wavered. “You may take his body. Dwanne would wish to help in any way possible. Please excuse me.” She jumped up and was quickly gone, almost running from the room.

Good,
thought Lindha.

Jeeha nodded, regarding her with approval. She finished dressing Ash’s wound and gathered her healing tools together; ready to move on to the next chore.

Determination glinted from Lindha’s eyes as she said to the Lady Jeeha, “I need the arrangements with Dwanne’s remains finalized. As few as possible must know, of course. We have plenty of blood and cell samples from the Trueborn,” she said, gazing at the soiled dressings. “We only need fingerprints. It will be relatively simple to speak with the medical superintendant to get him to falsify the records.”

Lindha took Ash’s right hand and put it in the bowl of water, soaking his skin and broken nails. Then she took the cloth and began to scrub and sponge his arm. She was surprised to find how white his skin was under all that grime. She said, “I’ve personally counseled the superintendent’s wife on many occasions. He has good reason to support the Temple. He’ll accept our fingerprints and samples and use them in the scan. Unfortunately, the UWG will also want a retina scan. Dwanne’s eyes will betray us.” She cleared her throat. “It’s best if they be made unavailable. We cannot rely on the birds to attend this task before his corpse is discovered,” she said, forcing herself to sound brisk as she rinsed the cloth, squeezed the water out and began wiping Ash’s skin once more.

“Yes. Certainly. I’ll take care of it,” Jeeha agreed.

Lindha sighed, continuing to work on Ash’s unconscious body. Putting out a dead man’s eyes would not be pleasant, but Dwanne’s sister need never know. The matter of obtaining help from the medical superintendant would be the easier task. Before the end of the day the UWG would have registered the Trueborn as legally dead.

“Thank you, Jeeha. It’s my duty to finish up here,” Lindha said, relieved. “There is still the matter of thoroughly washing the filth off our guest, and getting him settled in bed.”

Jeeha nodded and smiled. “You are an excellent Prefect, Lady. Jana has chosen well.” She gestured toward Ash. “I’ve got his clothes — he will need to be dressed as the Trueborn was.” Jeeha left to attend to Dwanne and to fake the off-worlder’s death.

The door shut. Lindha took the bowl to the sink, and ran fresh water. Bringing the steaming bowl from the washroom to her bed, she put it down on the table. With the right hand and arm quite clean, she started on his left, repeating the process, carefully washing and drying Ash’s motionless form. Jana be praised he was no longer awake, she thought gratefully. That would have been a trial difficult to endure.

The teachings concerning the Prophecy of the Coming of the Trueborn were clear. The function of the Temple was to provide assistance and support, but no Temple sister would be allowed to lead or direct him in any manner. When the time came the Trueborn would tell the Prefect of the Temple what was needed and what his purpose was. The Seer all those years ago had ordered it so.

Lindha had washed and dressed ill and injured men before and could not recall discomfort. This man was different, because it was for her, as Prefect, to provide whatever he wished. Only he knew what his purpose may be. The foretelling said that the Trueborn’s arrival would herald the end of the Temple as they knew it.
“With the Trueborn comes a two-edged sword, one side for light, one side for darkness and shadow,”
and,
“Beware the Trueborn, the animal that can kill the snake.”
Lindha shook her head in dismay. The man had been foreseen and named animal. The Trueborn could be our salvation. But, she thought with cold fear, he could also be our undoing.

Well, she would do her duty and give him anything he asked for. Anything. Her heart sped up and her skin tingled. She wasn’t sure if she was excited or filled with dread at the prospect. Both emotions seemed to be warring for supremacy.

Lindha washed Ash’s muscular back and buttocks, trying to be impersonal and not succeeding. There was no fat on him at all; he really was too thin. Just today she had overheard two of the female boarders discussing their sexual exploits and favorite positions. That was as expected, proper. They must learn the art of pleasure for their partners and themselves. Indeed, Lindha herself had learned the rites of love in case the Trueborn arrived and needed her that way.

Today, before he came, she had been jealous of the two girls and their experiences, wishing she was a normal woman like any other. Now she was frightened. Taro the Deceiver had made her jealous and Jana had shown her how irrational that jealousy could be. Many times she had imagined her dream lover. Could this man actually be him? He seemed so rough, so dangerous. It couldn’t be him, he was not comfortable at all. How different imagination was when compared to the harshness of reality.

Was the Goddess testing her faith? Lindha swallowed uneasily. The Trueborn already seemed to want her. But she didn’t feel ready; that was why she had told him she was celibate. Besides, he was drunk. It had not been a break in her vows, she thought, justifying her actions to herself. It was an impulsive attempt to slow things down, to ensure that she, as Prefect, was in control. And it had worked, giving the Trueborn pause in his attentions.

Lindha bit her lip. Ultimately, she would submit to her duties as Prefect. It was out of her hands. The future was up to the Trueborn.

A
sh woke in the sun-brightened room, unaware that he had slept overnight in the Temple Prefect’s quarters. It was quiet but he could hear the sound of young people outside. They seemed to be chatting and laughing, but the tones were soft. The room was a cool blue, the furniture of light wood. Ash was drawn to a large painting that hung in the center of the room. It was a landscape, and it gave an incredible impression of life and light. With large brushstrokes it showed the pastoral scene of an Opan spring sky. It was the astonishing light that attracted Ash. Whoever painted this work of art was a master.

Ash was lying on his back. His shoulder throbbed under a bandage and, with every muscle aching, he felt as though he had been thoroughly beaten. He looked at his fingers: his nails were trimmed and his hands were clean. Surprisingly, he had no hangover. But what a wonderful bed.

Rolling to his side, careful of his back and shoulder, Ash scanned the room. It was so comfortable. He hadn’t slept in a proper bed for years, and the sensation of a mattress and clean fresh sheets caused intense pleasure. He stretched luxuriously, finding it difficult to get past the simple satisfaction of a real bed. And to be so clean! Even his hair had been washed; it fell against his face and neck, soft and light. Everything smelled good. He felt himself to be naked, so where were his clothes?

“Good morning, Ash. Are you feeling better?”

Ash turned in surprise. It was the Lady Lindha. Here! Glancing up he received a further shock. She had been sleeping in a cot behind him.

“Yes … thank you, Lady.” He winced as he sat up and awkwardly stumbled through a reply. “If there is anything I can do to repay you …”

“In good time,” she said, cutting him off, smiling and propping pillows behind his back. “For now, you must rest. You have been through quite enough.” She opened the door and spoke to someone who was waiting in the hall. “We’re ready for the morning meal, please.”