I’m writing again. I’m writing for you, Ash, since I’m none too sure how much you’ll be able to remember, or even if you will remember any of what happened when I found you on Eden. Maybe I’m writing for myself also. I need to figure out whether I did the right thing.
Our arrival was rough. I had warned the pilot what to expect, but she was still taken a bit by surprise. The gravitic effect increased suddenly to .95g, much much more than an asteroid that size should have, and she had to kick in the secondary drives to slow us down.
“You don’t go to Dolparessa much, do you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Never. Why would I go to a pleasure-planet? Normally, I’m stationed in the honor guard on Eirelantra.”
“It’s the same there. Pudge – the pseudo-gravity generated by the universe on the other side of the rip. That’s why this little rock can hold an atmosphere.”
I had barely set foot on the asteroid surface when Manasseh approached us. I knew that it was you, Ash. It’s the eyes. You always have the same eyes. That and the expression on his face when he saw me: he looked as though his heart would have flown into my hand if only he could detach its inconvenient arteries. That expression – awestruck, euphoric, and entirely startled – I’d seen it before. I’d seen it when Chase walked in on me when I was trying to hotwire Sweet Blonde Suzanna’s spaceship.
Come to think of it, he reminded me a lot of Chase, even physically. He reminded me of Daniel, too, that sweet face and shy smile. I knew he was you, but he still took me by surprise. He wasn’t the man I was expecting. Another emanation, then, or the Gyre dream was wrong?
The Gyre dream couldn’t be wrong – it brought me here. And those people with the new emanation are the people in my dream, the humanoid species I didn’t recognize.
I was crushed. Lately, I had been dreaming, literally dreaming as I slept, about the wild man. I hadn’t experienced anything like that since childhood, dreams I’d had about Ailann long before I’d even heard of Gyre. Even in the short space of the vision, I could see his power in the way those strange alien people followed him without question, even though he was obviously not one of them. I could see it in the way he fearlessly challenged the invaders. It’s that side of you, Ash, which is absolutely intractable. The more I think about it, the more I realize that it’s different from any other Cu’enashti I’ve ever met. All the others seem so deferential, so eager to please. Maybe it’s because I planted your roots in rock.
It was ridiculous to allow myself to become so obsessed over something so fleeting. Maybe it was because I missed you so much, and it was easier to fantasize about a man I didn’t know than to worry about the ones I did. Or maybe it was the pernicious immediacy of Gyre. More than once, on that long trip to Eden, I found myself wishing I had the ingredients to synthesize more.
I had to push past my disappointment. The new emanation looked comely enough, and he was moving towards me. His feet were moving without him, probably. He looked like he’d forgotten how to speak. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Manasseh,” he said.
“Manasseh,” I repeated. It was a strange name, completely unlike all your others. Right then, I should’ve realized that there was something different about him. I didn’t want to see it. I was tired of carrying the burden of state alone; a moment of weakness, perhaps, but I just wanted to feel your arms around me again – no matter whose arms they happened to be.
He seemed too frightened to even speak. I thought I would try my theory. “Are you here because Ashtara is trying to help the Edenites fight against those Terrans from the science station?”
“Edenites?” He brought his hands to his face in flustered confusion. I almost laughed – he was so completely different from the man I had been expecting. But he was absolutely adorable, another side of you that I recognized. In your infinite complexity, I’ll never tire of you – which is exactly the point, isn’t it?
“Ashtara is the name of the Mover,” he stammered, “the hand which created God. Wait, you mean the K’ntasari? Yes! Yes! Ashtara is helping the people.”
The Mover? It seemed an odd way to refer to you, Ash, but there was certainly a logic to it. You did move all of the emanations, and you had created Ailann to fill the role of Archon, the Living God of the Domha’vei. I had no reason to think that Manasseh was anything more than a little strange – and certainly not as strange as Suibhne or Lorcan. Quite possibly, his wits were scattered because he was so intimidated by me. “You don’t have to be so nervous, Manasseh.” I reached out to stroke his cheek. His skin was as soft as a child’s. Reflexively, he responded by rubbing his face against my hand, like a felinoid, inappropriate, but endearing. “Such a handsome man. You’ve outdone yourself again, Ash. It’s a little awkward, though, since he looks so young, and I’m starting to show my age.”
Manasseh, clearly confused, began to stammer again. “I guess I am young – not even a year old. The K’ntasari are twice that – some are even closer to three years old. Are people supposed to look different when they get older?”
“Well, you’ve probably never seen anyone age – these people, the K’ntasari, were never children, were they? You should be able to see that through someone else’s memory, though.”
“Oh! Ari says that people do look different when they age. All living things do, except Nau’gsh people. Nau’gsh trees grow, but Nau’gsh people stay the same as when they’re emanated, unless they’re trying to age because they’re pretending to be human. I’m sorry – should I look older?”
“No, I should look younger. You can fix that easily enough.”
“I can?”
“I’m really surprised how little you’ve been told. You can reset my telomeres with your alchemy.”
Manasseh looked downcast. “Ari says he doesn’t know how to do that. He knows how to make clothing and shelter, though.”
“Who’s Ari?”
“He’s a voice in my head. He was sent to teach the people. I’m his prophet.”
“Is Ari a gigantic man with long red hair?”
Manasseh’s eyes widened. “You know everything, Tara. Of course you would. You’re the center of the world.” His smile was so warm, like the sun waking the spring in my heart. I had missed your smile so much. I was tired of trying to figure out what was going on. I wanted you so badly, Ash. I wanted – Ari. Apparently, there had been two new emanations. It was an enormous relief that the man I had longed for was real. A part of me wanted to ask for him to emanate, but there would be time for that. There was no need to hurt Manasseh by rushing, especially when Manasseh was so sweet and pretty.
But there was something not quite right about him. Perhaps his nervous confusion, his naiveté were parts of his personality, but I had a gut instinct that it was deeper. He kept reminding me of Chase, of the way Chase was when he first saw me. “There’s something messed up with your memory, isn’t there?” I asked. “Did you even know that I existed before today?”
“No. I knew something was wrong, but Ari told me not to think about it. It hurt too much to think about it. Then your ship came, and I knew that everything was going to work out. I knew that you came to help the people. I knew,” he looked at the ground, “that you had come for me.”
Damn it, Ash. The Gesture of Adorable Shyness. I knew you were playing me, but it still worked. And when your tricks grow stale, you come up with new ones. It occurred to me then maybe that was what your absence was about – making me miss you. I was going to beat the crap out of you if it was – but I’d fuck you senseless first.
“I will help the K’ntasari,” I said. “Those Terrans are in deep shit. They’re in clear violation of the treaty. But maybe if we play our cards right, we can find some evidence linking them to the appearance of the singularity. The knowledge that they tried to destroy two populated worlds – one with their own people on it – that’s not going to sell well anywhere, least of all the IndWorlds.”
“I don’t understand any of that, but I’ll do whatever you need me to.”
“Manasseh, you know, there is something I need you to do. Right now. Come back to my ship.” I didn’t really have to ask – he would’ve followed me like a puppy anyway.
“This will help you remember,” I said, when we got back to my quarters. “I think that taking Gyre would help more – that’s what fully restored Chase’s memories – but I don’t have any with me. But still…” I unbuttoned my blouse and tossed it onto the dresser. “Trust me, you’ll feel much better after this. And so will I.”
His expression was priceless. I love doing that to you, Ash. I imagine it’s the way Helen felt baring her breasts to Agamemnon.
“Come on,” I said, tugging at his sweater. “Let me see you.” It was a bit ridiculous, that sweater, a brown and fuzzy pullover topping a button-down shirt. The K’ntasari wore fibrous shifts, thick woven leggings, rough-hewn boots. Simple, practical, the way I imagined farmers or pirates dressed in ancient times, crude because they lacked the technology to elaborate. But Manasseh was wearing perfectly pressed chinos and dock shoes with rubbilex soles. He looked like a 20th century college freshman. I shook my head. “Ash, where do you get your fashion sense?”
He laughed. “I think it looks funny, too, but I’ve always had these clothes. It’s because I’m a prophet.”
“Shouldn’t a prophet have, you know, flowing robes with intricate gold embroidery and a formidable beard? Like Ailann.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met another prophet.”
“I don’t suppose you have. Well, why don’t you change into something a little more comfortable – like nothing at all?”
His face turned red. He looked so confused, so crestfallen. “I’m so ashamed,” he murmured.
“Ashamed? Of what?”
“Of my…my…” His hands flew to nervously cover his groin.
I grinned. “I’d let me be the judge of that. You’re probably not as big as Ari,” I said thoughtfully. “Why do men always get hung up on that?”
“A prophet is supposed to be pure!” he blurted out.
“What?” I stared at him for a heartbeat, then burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“I can’t help it,” he said miserably. “Please don’t mock me. There’s just something about you taking your clothes off which is making my body respond…in an impure fashion.”
“Impure. Who the hell told you that?”
“Ari.”
“Ari? I think he’s having you on! Listen, Manasseh, I can’t believe you’re too screwed up to remember that the ultimate motivation of Cu’enashti existence is to get the Chosen into bed. You’re a tree. All trees think about is sex.”
“I never thought about sex before now, even when Miranda asked me to. That’s when Ari told me it was impure.”
“Who’s Miranda?”
“The leader of the K’ntasari.”
“And she made a pass at you?”
“She, well, it was awkward. I didn’t really want to, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“You didn’t want to? You couldn’t! Did this happen?” I grabbed at his crotch. Hmmm, actually, not bad at all.
“No!” He looked like he wanted to evaporate, whether from the heat or from embarrassment, I wasn’t sure.
“Manasseh,” I took him by the chin and looked directly in his eyes. “Am I the beginning and end of the universe?”
“Yes, absolutely,” he said without hesitating. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize that before today.”
“It’s amazing how we miss the obvious,” I said, remembering how many years I thought that Daniel, Sloane, Evan, Jack, Mickey, Tommy, Patrick and Cuinn were random men who just happened to have exactly the same eyes. “Manasseh,” I said, “How can anything you do with me be impure?”
“It can’t,” he said, his eyes widening with the realization.
“What Ari must’ve meant is that sex with Miranda would be impure. You had to keep yourself pure for me.”
“Oh!” I could feel him relax, the tension leaving his shoulders underneath my hands. “That makes so much more sense.”
“Gods, you’re so innocent. Just take off your goddamn clothes!”
I love this part, Ash, I really do. Seeing the particular way each emanation reacts, the look on his face when he first takes me. Knowing the power I have over you. It’s been too long since you’ve given me a new husband. I could feel his alchemy, blind instinct reaching into my body, toying with my responses. It’s like it was with Daniel that first time – no subtlety, too quickly. My desire was a blasting wave rippling heat from my toes through my legs and into my torso. “Slow,” I gasped. “We can take the time to enjoy this.”
Or not. Well, we could go again in a few minutes. Cu’enashti have a remarkably fast recovery time.
“Tara,” he moaned. He didn’t know what else to say. He bit his lip and looked at me with his wet, wide eyes. Daniel was just like this the first time I bedded him. It was my first time, too, but I didn’t expect anything from at all from it. All I wanted was not to “save myself” for that asshole Merkht. If I gave myself to a sweet farm boy like Daniel, so much the better. All the talk I’d heard about losing one’s virginity was that it was messy, uncomfortable, and a bit of a letdown. I did it just to spite Merkht, and also because I could see how very much Daniel wanted to, even if he was afraid to ask.
We were up in his little loft in the village, in his little bed across from the fireplace. It was too hot for a fire that day – on Dolparessa, the only time you’d want a fire would be in the chill of evening, and I could never stay that late. I thought he’d take his pleasure, sigh and go to sleep. That’s what I had heard about the way boys behaved.
Instead it was Zeus coming in a shower of gold, and after, tears streaming out of his eyes, looking at me with such intensity that it would have frightened me, if it hadn’t broken my heart. It shocked me how much it meant to him, how really fragile he was. It shocked me more how much it meant to me.
In the end, I was the one who fell asleep. I would always be the one who fell asleep. That’s because you never sleep, Ash, you rotter.
Manasseh was looking at me just like that, like a baby bird which had just seen the sky for the first time. Maybe I was showing my age, but I felt like a girl again. I couldn’t understand how you did it, such remarkable innocence in the face of all we’d been through together, but I wanted nothing more than to protect it. “You don’t play fair, Ash,” I say, nuzzling his neck. “How can I help but love him?”
I kissed him, gently, slowly. “Manasseh,” I said, “Again. You’ll control my metabolism by instinct, and you’ll come when I come. So just take your time and enjoy yourself.”
“Love,” he said, quietly, as if the word held magic. “I love you, Tara.”
“Of course you do. Don’t worry about it.”
“Worry? But you…the universe…”
“You are a flower, Manasseh. Your petals are soft as silk, and you release them in riotous colors, drowning in your own heady scent, spread open wide to attract the perfect bee. Everything you know and are and feel is part of this great longing, your reason to exist. And all the tree cares is whether the pollen is taken.”
“The world tree,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “It’s in bloom.”
“Of course it is. Soon the boughs of your branch will be heavy with fruit.”
And then he was on top of me, his lips covering mine, pushing himself between my legs. Fruit is quite the kink for you, isn’t it?
*****
I jerked awake, clutching at him. “Are you all right? Did you have a bad dream? Sometimes the K’ntasari have nightmares. It makes me glad that I don’t have to sleep.”
It took me a moment to realize where I was, to remember who he was. “Oh. I always wake calling for Ash. It’s just something I do every night.” But over the years, it had become a quiet murmur in my sleep until you left. Now it was desperate again, a cry for reassurance. Suddenly, there were tears in my eyes, tears I didn’t want Manasseh to see, so I buried my face against his neck. “You’ve been gone a long time,” I said.
“I really don’t understand. Why would I leave you? I don’t know how I could have done it.”
“You don’t remember anything at all?” I wanted to change the subject. Besides, I figured I should probably get some answers sooner than later. “Like how you got here?”
“On foot.”
I giggled. “That’s not what I meant. I meant how you got here from Dolparessa.”
“Dolparessa?”
“Our homeworld.”
“This is my home.”
“Well, in a way, but you said you remembered becoming conscious under your tree. So how did you get from there to here?”
“On foot. Well, I didn’t come directly here. The people wandered around a lot, trying to avoid the Terrans.”
“You came from Dolparessa on foot? You must mean flying on your own and not riding the power grid.”
“I’ve never been on Dolparessa.”
“Ash – the Atlas Tree is on Dolparessa.”
“I was born under the world tree on Eden. It’s about 400 kilometers south from here.”
I sat bolt upright and nearly shoved him away. He couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be right and be you. Then was I mistaken? What had I done?
He noticed immediately. “Did I upset you? Did I say something wrong?”
“Can you show me this world tree?”
“Yes, but it will take many days to walk.”
“We’ve hovercars in the hold. It will only take a few hours. I need to see it, Manasseh.”
But his eyes, Ash. They were your eyes. They were the same eyes I saw when I found Chase, and he didn’t remember either. Manasseh had to be wrong about the world tree, or it had to be some kind of illusion. I pulled him out of the bed and then called Clive Rivers. Clive wasn’t happy to have his sleep disturbed, but I needed his expertise – his objectivity as a scientist.
On the way to the car, I went to meet Miranda. “Where are you taking the prophet?” she asked boldly. All the soldiers and retainers around me flinched. None of them would’ve spoken to me in that tone of voice. After all, I am the Matriarch. The sergeant major shot me a glance, as if to ask whether he should discipline the impertinent wench. I shook my head no.
“Miranda, how much do you know about the universe? This world, Eden, is part of a star system called the Domha’vei.”
“Ari taught us that. And he taught us the names of the worlds, and said there were people on other worlds.”
“I’m the ruler of the Domha’vei, and as such, you are my subject. You’re also a citizen. Those Terrans aren’t. They have no right to be here, and I intend to stop them. But their own empire, although very far away, is powerful, and we have to proceed carefully. I want you to speak to General Lemkht and tell him everything you know about the invaders – how many of them there are, where their base is, what kind of weapons they use. He’s a very great warrior of our people, so just answer the questions he asks.”
Miranda looked at Manasseh. “What does Ari say?”
“He says to obey Tara. He says even God obeys Tara.”
I really think I need that on a javajuice mug. Miranda looked skeptical, though, but she did as she was told. “Is she the jealous type?” I asked.
Manasseh looked puzzled. “Why would she be jealous?”
“Well, you turned her down.”
“She took another lover the next day. She has many choices.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said as Clive entered the room. “She seems proud. Proud people can hold onto a grudge for a long time.”
“My ears are burning,” said Clive. “I brought the equipment you requested.”
Manasseh looked sullen as Clive got into the back seat of the car – much as you always look whenever Clive is around, Ash. You are the jealous type.
He sulked for the next hour. That made for an excruciatingly boring ride. Most of Eden was a flat field of turquoise grain, with the appearance of an occasional avian and one sighting of a five-horned antlerope. Apparently biodiversity wasn’t a big priority to Davy – or maybe Eden was just a rush job.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you,” he said finally.
“You haven’t done anything, Manasseh.”
“It’s herself she’s kicking,” said Clive, “since she couldn’t wait to hop into the sack with you. If you really are from a different tree than Ashhole, she’s just cheated on her husband.”
“Thanks, Clive,” I said. Manasseh’s face was a swirled cartoon of panic. “I didn’t want to say anything until we were certain one way or the other…”
“He deserves to know, doesn’t he? That if he’s not one of Ash’s emanations, he’ll be cast away like so much kindling…or will he? What if he is another Cu’enashti and he’s bonded to you? What will you do then? You can’t just tell him to kiss off, like you did to me.”
“That can’t be true,” I said. “Cu’enashti emanations form in response to the presence of the Chosen. They don’t just emanate at will and go looking to get lucky. And I’ve never seen this world tree. It would have no reason to bond to me.”
Manasseh looked from me to Clive and back again, his emotions scrawled across his guileless face. He was somewhere between a state of absolute despair and jealous fury. “What does he mean, like you did to him?”
“I was her lover,” said Clive, “before she married the Atlas Tree. But then again, I came long after she’d met Ashtara.” He grinned, leaning forward. “Tara’s affections are fickle.”
“That’s not true. It’s complicated.”
“It seems to be,” said Manasseh, slumping. “Do you actually like him?” He glanced in Clive’s direction. “I don’t.”
Clive laughed uproariously. “He’s a winner, this one. Honest to a fault. Well, I don’t like you either, boy. And I don’t like Ashtara.”
“Ashtara created God,” said Manasseh. “Not liking Him doesn’t seem wise.”
“Ashtara created God,” said Clive. “That’s a new one. I suppose he created a god when he created Ailann, but I’m not an Archonist. Ailann isn’t my god, no matter how powerful he is. Actually, I find the whole concept of god to be rather foolish. Impossible, sentimentalist speculation. Absurd to think of an old man with a white beard creating the world.”
“That’s because you’re originally from Earth, and they’re all atheist barbarians,” I said.
“He’s one of the enemy? And you trust him?”
“I trust him…as long as I don’t turn my back,” I said, remembering too well how Clive had once betrayed me. “He’s a useful ally.”
“He’s an idiot,” said Manasseh. “It’s not sentimentalist speculation. God created Eden.”
Clive smirked, cracked open the seal on a water bottle to give his words significant emphasis. “God didn’t create Eden. Davy created Eden.”
Manasseh looked like he’d been hit in the face with a poker. “He knows the secret name of God!”
“All right,” I said, “Now we’re getting somewhere. Clive, you seem to forget that these people, this entire world was created by Davy, and so, in a very real sense, he is their god.”
“Ah, the profound mind of God. Does Davy ever contemplate something deeper than sock puppets and sports scores?”
“Sex,” I said spitefully. “He thinks about sex a lot. Manasseh, who told you that the name of God was Davy?”
“Ari.”
“Hmmm, that one should’ve been obvious. How did Ari know?”
Manasseh shook his head. “He just knew. Like how he knew to teach the people how to talk.”
I turned back to face Clive. “That didn’t just happen. Ash planned this.”
“Would you mind keeping your eyes on the road?”
“What road? We’re in the middle of an endless cornfield.”
“Well, there’s a tree that way.” He pointed in front of us. “You’ll hit it.”
“That’s it,” said Manasseh. “Goliath, the world tree. But it’s still really really far away. You won’t hit it.”
“Goliath,” I said. “Davy and Goliath.”
Clive furled his brow. He didn’t get the allusion – religion had long been banned on Earth. And if there was one thing Clive hated, it was to be left out of the loop.
It was very far away. Just like the Atlas Tree – I could see it for miles. It was larger than a mountain. As soon as we got in range, Clive started taking some readings. “How big is it?” I asked.
“Big.”
“What scientific specificity.”
“You want specifics? Try this one – it’s exactly the same size as the last reported measure of the Atlas Tree. Both in volume and mass. Even proportionally – root mass versus branch mass.”
“That makes no sense at all,” I said. “Atlas is hanging off the side of Starbright Mountain. Its roots go all the way through the mountain in order to support it. This tree is standing in the middle of a flat plain. It shouldn’t need deep roots at all – other than the tap root, that is. It should have a fairly shallow root system.”
“This is supposed to make sense? I’m shocked. I usually find that the rational nature of the universe decays in direct proportion to your proximity.”
“I love you, too. Kissy kissy.”
“Tara!” Manasseh looked absolutely horrified.
“I was being sarcastic. Clive and I share the peculiar feelings of ex-lovers, something I could only describe as a cross between nostalgia and bitterness. It’s Ashtara I love.”
“Ashtara – the Mover. Tara, I felt Him last night. I had only heard Ari speak of Him before, but when we…um, well, I felt him move inside of me, like a great pair of wings swooping down on me. Like a great wild avion with wings made of blue flowers.”
“I’m not wrong,” I said, as the hovercar finally pulled up to the side of the tree. “Am I, Ash?” I surveyed its enormous system of trunks. After a moment, I found what I was looking for. I ducked past the outer ring, placing my hand on one of the ones ringing the central trunk. It was warm, so warm. “This one is you,” I said to Manasseh.
His face lit up. “It is! I never realized, but it is! How did you know?”
“It’s got fruit,” Clive said dryly, picking one and shoving it into his pocket. He circled the tree, taking samples of its bark and leaves. “Tara, there are twenty-five sub-trunks in total.”
“Manasseh, there’s no one in your head other than Ari? Were there those that came before him? Does he remember?”
Manasseh shook his head vigorously. “Ari is the first.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like this. Usually, a branch grows as a response to a trauma. Sometimes a branch will fail to emanate, or emanate years later, but I’ve never heard of more than two being kept in reserve, so to speak. When Ailann dealt with the singularity, he had to grow a new branch, and Atlas already had two in reserve. It forced the emanation of Lorcan almost immediately.”
“But this tree has twenty-three in reserve,” said Clive, “or we are missing the point.”
“Ash,” I said, “are you in there? Give me a sign.”
Suddenly there was a rushing like a thousand avions and a loud snap that reverberated across the horizon. All of the enormous tree’s flowers had opened at once. “Now that’s more like it,” I said.
“I hate it when he does that,” said Clive. Then I looked back at Manasseh, and broke into laughter. He was crouched on the ground, his arms around his knees, his face pure scarlet.
“You are really so innocent,” I said. Clive scowled. He knew what I was on about. People tend to think of flowers as innocent and pure. But any botanist knows that a flower is a sex organ. Ash had done the equivalent of spreading himself like a whore, and poor Manasseh was suddenly in a very compromising position. “But it is Ash,” I said triumphantly. “I knew it. I don’t understand how, but it’s so.”
“If it really is Ashtara,” said Clive, “won’t the Staff of the Matriarch acknowledge him as Archon?”
Clive had a very good point. The Staff had immediately recognized Chase. Plus, there was a very big added advantage – I needed the Archon to recalibrate the power grid. The sooner we could solve the power shortages, the better. “We’ll go back to the ship,” I said. “You aren’t averse to trying the experiment?”
“I’ll do anything you want,” said Manasseh. “But I am Ashtara. Or rather Ashtara is in me. I’m sure of it!”