The Verse:
There is no escape from the portrait with no windows.
There is one who makes a window from solid stone.
The Vision:
A horrible sight – what seems to be a riot escalates into violence. Ta’al Sghtya is pulled down from his snowdiver. There is chaos and blood. Then a window opens.
Commentary by Archbishop Co’oal Venesti:
A dark time in the history of the Domha’vei. Impatient for God’s grace, and heedless of their proper station in life, certain incendiary elements of the rabble turned against their betters. The Living God, in his compassion, does not condemn them as they deserve, but rather, hastens their entry into eternal life.
Commentary by Elma, High Prophetess of Skarsia:
Careful Ashtara. When it starts moving fast enough, it’ll move on its own.
Commentary by Archbishop Seth:
The situation is more complex than Archbishop Venesti would have it. The delicate balance between the common man and the aristocrat had been disturbed by a number of factors: Driscoll’s short-sighted promise, the Great Reveal, and the realization sinking in over time that some people in the Domha’vei were simply not aging. The Archon, as God of the Domha’vei, was a lightning rod for discontent: it was easily seen by everyone that the Archon’s friends were granted a seeming immortality. The system was on the verge of a class war.
But it was also true that the Cu’enashti nau’gsh in general could at least preserve the lives of their families. As every year passed, more and more people flocked to Dolparessa, until the Matriarch was forced to take action to preserve the trees from the people who claimed to offer their love.
A more insidious, but equally dire effect was building at home. The Cu’endhari had started the practice of family groves. In former times, it had been the practice to ignore one’s saplings and to allow the seeds to be dispersed or disposed of without care. Trees had evolved under such conditions that very few of the seeds were expected to take root each year, and thus produced an overabundance of them. They had an ontological significance equal to sperm cells. However, when the Cu’endhari became sentient, the position of the seeds shifted to become analogous to human children. The difficulty is obvious: a very fertile human would produce perhaps a child a year (occasionally twins). A Cu’endhari nau’gsh could produce hundreds of pips. Plant them all, nurture them all, and there wouldn’t be a square centimeter of dirt left on Dolparessa to stick a root into.
Commentary by Her Eminence Tara del D’myn, 6th Matriarch of Skarsia:
I knew it before Lord Danak opened his mouth to speak. “It’s Ta’al Sghtya.”
“You’ve heard the news, then?”
“No. The blue amrita. I saw him die. The other images were muddled. How bad is it?”
“Bad.” He walked over to the window looking down on the Atrium. “But Volparnu is bad. You, of all people know it.” His eyes were far away, and he was looking at the magnificent spires which twisted like candyfloss towards the visdome.
“It’s not just Volparnu. It’s Skarsia and even Sideria. I’ve had to limit travel visas to Dolparessa. You can only imagine what the tourism bureau thinks of that. On all the worlds, they’re saying the same thing.”
Danak nodded. “The Archon has his favorites, and they live forever in paradise. The rest die. The promise of immortality for their grandchildren is no longer enough.”
I pour myself a drink, heavy on the seedless redberri juice – amrita visions always make me crave Vitamin B12. “How ironic,” I say, “now that Earth has a civil war of its own. They’ve got Archonists trying to overthrow CenGov, and we’ve got insurgents trying to overthrow the Archon. And the people who love us are worse than the people who hate us. Ailann hasn’t been able to go out in public since that disastrous vacation in Chalkolo.”
“The more we withdraw for our own safety to the palaces of Dolparessa and the spires of Eirelantra, the more they accuse us of isolationism. Who is to say they aren’t right?”
It’s a hard thought for me to face. An old woman’s thought. It’s not as easy being an old woman in a young woman’s body as one might think. It’s not as easy being immortal as one might think. You don’t get the boon of a natural death to escape from the consequences of your choices. And those consequences compound farther down the line.
Ailann had been silent until now. “It’s simple,” he said. “We establish a new aristocracy.”
I had no idea what he meant by that at all. “It isn’t just a matter of granting a title. You can’t possibly make everyone in the Domha’vei immortal, Ash.”
“Obviously. But the Cu’enashti take care of their own Chosen.”
“The problem is that there will never be enough Cu’enashti. Even if we grew every seed, Cüinn’s casual observation when we went out to the forest proved to be true. Most of the Cu’endhari don’t ever make the leap.”
“That’s a different problem, and one I can’t fully understand. If they don’t leap – one direction or another – they’ll never fruit. They’re like eternal children.”
“Well, who knows? Maybe they’re the smart ones. That Cu’ensali in the forest certainly treated Cüinn like an idiot. But you never explained what you meant by new aristocracy.”
“Whatever it is,” injected Lord Danak, “it had better not alienate the old aristos.”
“I don’t think the old aristos would be interested in colonizing a new galaxy.”
“What?” asked Lord Danak.
Before Ailann could reply, I was halfway across the room and within an inch of hitting him. But I didn’t. There are some advantages in being an old woman in a young woman’s body – impulse control seems to come easier with age. “If you mean what I think you mean…”
“We’re not going back to Tucana. I was thinking Draco.”
“Oh great. At least we know Tucana is full of evil, life-sucking centipedes. We have no idea at all what’s in Draco. Maybe eight-legged hummingbirds who lay their eggs in your eyes and the larvae chew holes through your brain.”
“Um,” said Lord Danak. “No, I don’t think the aristos would be too keen on that.”
“We know exactly what’s in Draco – the Houl. But they’re harmless, as long as you don’t go to the worlds they’ve contaminated with radiation. But imagine this – if we promise a common man a title for the land he can homestead – and send him off with a pocket full of seeds for an orchard…”
“An orchard?” I asked.
“Cüinn ran some simulations. With the amount of dark matter in the Draco dwarf, there have to be rips all over the place. Which means two things: first, that it’s a great place for us to go. Second, that we can’t afford to let anyone else beat us to it.”
“There are so many seeds, more than could ever be planted on Dolparessa,” mused Danak. “But on a new world…”
“Exactly,” said Ailann.
“Hummingbirds of death,” I said.
“The Combine stuck me with that galaxy. If we get into trouble, I can call on my friends to help.”
“Excuse me, but I think you are confusing the Combine of Sentients with the League of Sentient Fightheroes. The SongLuminants’ idea of help is laughing while you die.”
“That’s unfair. The Floatfish saved Seth and helped with the volcano. The Twist make incredible SSOps agents. And Thoughtful 45 is practically family.”
“It’s hard to see the source of the confusion, though,” I mused. “The SongLuminants don’t wear capes.”
“Oh, don’t start with that. Marty insisted on badges. Imagine having to design a cape for a subatomic particle.”
Lord Danak cleared his throat. “Your Eminences, there’s a more pressing problem…the Cantor.”
*****
Danak was right about that. Ash was still in exile from the forest. Somehow or another, I got talked into going to the sacred grove in his stead. I thought the idea of colonizing another galaxy was mad, but our options were limited. I was having nightmares – not amrita-dreams, but plain old nightmares. I kept dreaming of Ta’al Sghtya being lynched. Or I’d dream – inexplicably – of the death of my parents.
And politically, the situation was only getting worse. It had been over a year since Ash was able to walk freely as any of his known emanations. Everywhere he went, he was mobbed with people screaming for him to save them. There was going to come a time – and perhaps not that far away – when we couldn’t live among the people anymore. It could become a self-fulfilling prophecy: an immortal tribe of Dol-lans living in their own little corridor, shuttling between Dolparessa and Eirelantra, while the huddled masses on Sideria, Skarsia and Volparnu aged and died.
Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve listened to Lord Danak and kept Ash hidden, kept the Archon an invisible god, a superstition in the minds of the people. But the Great Reveal had to happen. And once it did, the promise of immortality was out of the bag.
It wouldn’t have worked. I’m not a good liar. Even if I tried, I’d eventually get drunk and talk too much.
Once back on Dolparessa, I met up with Raoul and Miranda. The three of us would approach the Cantor with Ash’s plan. The Cantor had refused to accept the resignation of the K’ntasari (“Trees don’t leave the forest”) so Miranda was still officially the K’ntasari representative to the Convocation. That meant the Cantor couldn’t afford to ignore her summons to meet at the sacred grove on Turquoise Head.
When the Cantor saw that Raoul and I had accompanied Miranda, she launched into an immediate tirade. She had to put up with me, she said, because I was the Marquesa of Dolparessa. And she had to put up with Miranda, even though she’d always had her doubts whether the K’ntasari could actually be called nau’gsh. But there was no reason she had to put up with Raoul, brother of the deviant Lilith, son of the banished Ashtara. “I’m not even sure that you’re nau’gsh either,” she snapped. “Apples don’t fall far from the tree. But you have the arrogance to come here. Arrogance! No true Cu’endhari is arrogant.”
“What about Lady Claris?” I muttered. Maybe we should’ve brought her, too, but I’ve never trusted her, and she’d been out-of-sorts since Clive went back to Earth.
“Arrogance is a virtue,” said Miranda, “when it is justified.”
“To a Cu’enashti, it’s never justified. Look at him,” she said gesturing at Raoul. “What happened to your first emanation? Charles was too bold. He assumed that because he was a princeling, and because Sir Kaman was his father’s servant, he could get whatever he wanted. And so he got what he deserved.”
She sat on an ancient stone bench, worn smooth by wind, and looked out at the restless Sea of Illusion. “All the saplings are bold these days,” she said quietly, half to herself. “They don’t listen to their elders anymore. They don’t realize that some humans won’t accept them immediately. They don’t realize that just because they can reveal what they are, it doesn’t mean that they ought to do it.”
I had only been listening with one ear. Something more interesting had caught my attention. Even in the sacred grove, what Cüinn had noticed held true. The trees were either wild nau’gsh or Cu’ensali. “Why don’t more of the Cu’endhari make the grand jeté?” I asked.
“It’s a mystery,” said the Cantor crossly. “Do you think your so-called science can solve it? Like your foolishness about the nectarines. And moron can see that a Cu’endhari is no more related to a nectarine than…”
“…a human is related to a monkey,” I finished. “Darwin had similar problems, so I suppose I’m in good company.”
“Darwin was human,” said Raoul. “It’s one thing for a human to say that humans are monkeys, but how would you feel if a Floatfish did it?”
“As ruler of the Domha’vei, and thus conversant with the nuances of politicized speech, your point is well-taken. As a scientist, I can’t afford to worry about hurt feelings. Truth is truth.”
“Did you come here to insult and annoy me,” said the Cantor, “or was there actually a point to this visit?”
“Ari the wise has discovered a new source of nul-energy in a different galaxy,” said Miranda. “He plans to colonize it using humans, K’ntasari and Cu’endhari.”
“Cu’endhari?” said the Cantor incredulously. “Is this a joke?”
“Way to go Miranda,” said Raoul. “We might have phrased it a bit more…”
“They’ll grow, with a source of nul-energy to tap into,” I interject. “Look, I’m on the verge of completely isolating Dolparessa to keep it from becoming overrun, I’ve got riots on my hands because humans want to be immortal, and you’re up to your leaves in family groves. And the seeds just keep coming, don’t they?”
She was silent.
“And not enough of them will ever become Cu’enashti to satisfy the demand.”
“Because most humans are unworthy! All of this has happened because of you and Ashtara. Because of your arrogance. You took his seed from one of the Old Ones. He should’ve been a squirrel tree, but you planted him alone, outside of the forest. Is it any wonder? All of this is because you couldn’t keep the silence, and now each sapling is worse than the next. Family groves! If they’d have kept to tradition, and thrown the seeds away…”
“So what you’re saying is that they should show no regard for their children, but keep a stupid taboo about not eating nuts? What kind of logic weights an almond as more precious than a nau’gsh?”
She turned into the mothman and flew away.
“I’ve done it again,” I said. “I really know how to piss her off.”
“She was gunning for a fight,” said Raoul, “but Miranda didn’t help much.”
“She’s a fool, and she isn’t looking out for the best interests of her people,” Miranda sulked.
“I doubt that,” I reply. “A lot of what she did makes sense, or at least, was appropriate for the time. She’s just very rigid in her thinking.”
Raoul shrugged. “We tried. If you want to come back to my place, there’s some leftover gourd salad in the stasisstorer.”
*****
Lwrence is a charming man, and he makes a mean Chalkolo Julep. By the time I returned to the palace, I was feeling a little better about what had happened for two reasons. First, I was half-nova’d. Second, it was a pleasure to watch Sir Kaman, Lwrence and Raoul just go about their daily lives. One thing it’s easy to lose track of is how much the Great Reveal actually helped the average Cu’enashti.
I got in late – Cüinn had messaged me that he was working at RR-2, so I didn’t watch the time. He still arrived after me. “I’ve been running the pathfinders,” he said. “I never thought I’d say this, but I wish Clive were here.”
“I wonder if Clive is still alive. The reports from Earth seem to be getting worse and worse. Did you eat? I ate at Kaman’s.”
“Uh, I forgot. I’ll call room service.”
“This is our home. There’s no room service,” I said, pressing the bell for a courtier.
“But we have servants, so isn’t it the same thing?”
“There’s a big difference. With room service, the prices are on the menu, and you pay the bill when you leave. With hereditary servants, you just get bled for life.”
“Wow, that was cynical. And kind of elitist.”
“Have you noticed how the number of people wearing my livery keeps creeping steadily up? Everyone’s finding a job for her third cousin’s wife’s landlord. They all want to be immortal.”
“Well, we found a real good spot, a nice little world with a rip in the center, and far away from anyplace inhabited by Houl. A whole planet this time. I just have to work out a path that takes less than a century. So how’d it go with the Cantor?”
“It didn’t. She’s still twigged off at you.”
There was a knock at the door. It was Addick Heyan, a retainer who had served me for over forty years. His daughter, Premma, had married a Cu’enashti. Ashpremma had loved her from before the Great Reveal. Not everyone around me was an opportunist.
“I’ll have a sucksow, greengrain and tomato sandwich on Windsong wheat,” said Cüinn.
“Very good, Your Highness. Would you like sauce on that?”
“Um, how about some of that nau’gsh chutney? And a big side of extra crispy biiskits.”
“Excellent choice. One other thing – you have a visitor.”
“At this time of night? It’s past twenty-three,” I said.
“It’s the High Prophetess, Elma.”
Cüinn and I exchanged a stupefied look. When Cüinn looks stupefied, he really goes all out. It’s derp-face as a sort of performance art.
“I wonder why she’s here? She never leaves Eirelantra. Well, I suppose we’d better ask her in.” Heyan nodded curtly and left the room. In a minute, Elma wandered in, pupils the size of planets.
“Draco,” she said. “Draco. Whisper-filaments. Anise tea. A candle flickers.”
“Beg pardon?” asked Cüinn.
She turned to me. “Your visions are useless because they are so literal. You can’t tell me Ashtara has no imagination. Learn to interpret the symbols.”
“Right,” I said. “But I can’t really control…”
“The emanation will control the quality of the vision. That’s why I didn’t want Elma’ashra to have a second branch. Ah well, had to happen sometime. Her branch is too rigid. She needs to be young and supple.”
“What?”
At that moment, Heyan returned with Cüinn’s food. “Biiskits!” said Elma, helping herself.
“Hey!” said Cüinn. “Get your own.”
“Shall I bring another order, Your Highness?” asked the attentive butler.
“At this rate, better bring two.”
“Best thing about the Great Reveal,” said Elma. “Since Elma’ashra’s fixing my metabolism, I can eat biiskits all day and not gain an ounce. But I never get ones as good as these. I get the packets.”
“You should hire a chef,” I said, a little annoyed. “Surely, you didn’t come all the way to Dolparessa to invite yourself for snacks?”
“Insect control laser,” said Elma. “Look. I made a deal with Elma’ashra. She lets Ashtara take the seeds where no nau’gsh has gone before, I let her have a second branch. She can fruit. In fact, you can take the fruit with you. I kind of fancy her saplings on the new frontier.” She spun around three times, looking at the ceiling. “Huh. That part of the plaster looks like the Orion Nebula.”
“You interceded with her? But how did you get here so fast? Or you must have known about it before…”
“Symbols. Avions flying backwards into the mediaplex. A clown dances, and amoebas dance with him. And so on.”
“I’m kinda glad Tara doesn’t have visions like that, to be honest,” said Cüinn. “Clowns scare the hell out of me.”
“Well I’ll be going. Don’t bother to thank me. I’ll call in the favor when you least expect it,” she said, snatching a plate of biiskits from Heyan as he returned.
“Well, that’s dandy,” said Cüinn. “I’ll fire up the old pathfinder again in the morning.”
I walked out alone onto the verandah. I knew Ash was right about this, but my head was spinning, and it wasn’t just Lwrence’s juleps. “I’m too old for this,” I muttered, and then started to laugh. I wasn’t sure what I was more afraid of – an abrupt end to being too old for anything, or being even older still. Fourteen hundred years was a long way away.
What I was most afraid of was losing Ash. As if he read my thoughts, Cüinn came up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his face into the back of my neck. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re going to get there, and we’ll do it together.”
I wish I knew where there was.