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"When the Keremaths took power from the Avians," Ethemark says, "it was in
alliance with those of the Dalavan faith, who the Avians had subjected to
continuous persecution.
"Dalavans?" Aiah says. "They are not Dalavites? Or are they two different
branches of the same ?
A smile tugs at the corners of Ethemark's lips. "The followers of the prophet
Dalavos consider the term Dalavite pejorative. The reason involves their
rather complex history, and I will spare you the details unless you are truly
interested.
"Thank you," Aiah says. "I'm glad you told me this before I met Parq. But
I've made you digress do go on.
"The prophet Dalavos preached continually against those with twisted genes,
claiming that they we are a spiritual evil polluted by our altered genetics."
He clasps his hands together, the knuckles turning white. His voice maintains
its objective tone, but the gesture informs Aiah of his feelings with perfect
eloquence. "His target was the Avian aristocracy, of course, but the rest of
the twisted fall almost by accident within the scope of this condemnation.
Aiah watches Ethemark's hands, the furious, trembling pressure they exert on
one another.
"I would not find it congenial," Ethemark says, "if Parq were able to control
personnel in this department, or indeed in any other. The Dalavan prejudice
against the twisted would be exerted to the full.
"If Parq ever controls hiring to that extent," Aiah says, "I would leave. I
am not willing to offer my services to a theocracy.
Ethemark's huge deep eyes gaze at Aiah. Regret touches his voice. "You are
lucky in having someplace to go, Miss Aiah.
For a moment there is silence. Aiah's nerves tingle with the force of this
rebuke.
"You are very frank, Mr. Ethemark.
Nictitating membranes half-shutter Ethemark's eyes, and Aiah feels another
eerie shiver up her nerves at this inhuman gesture.
"I answer frankness with frankness," he says. "You were open in regard to our
department's deficiencies, and I in regard to what the future might bring us."
He sighs, his short child's legs swinging below the chair, and uncouples his
hands.
"To tell the truth," he says, "we both owe our jobs to our loyalties. You are
loyal to Constantine and I to Adaveth or perhaps to the purpose each of our
patrons represents and therefore we have no present cause for conflict, as our
two patrons are in alliance.
Aiah raises an eyebrow. "No present cause?
Ethemark presses his gray palms together and cocks his large head at a
strangely birdlike angle. "I understand that you spent yesterday studying the
plasm system within the Palace.
"You are changing the subject, Mr. Ethemark." And Adaveth has some good
spies, she thinks.
"I hope to return to the subject by way of illustration, but in order to make
my point I would like to take you outside the Palace. May I?
"Now?" Dubiously.
"If you are not otherwise engaged. I gather you are not.
Aiah hides her amusement. Ethemark is trying to rig a chonah for her.
It will take more than this little gray-skinned homunculus to catch one of the
Cunning People.
At this point there is a knock on the outer office door, and Aiah rises to
discover the workers come to replace her window.
At least she can successfully give orders to the maintenance staff. This was
more than she ever achieved in her old job at the Plasm Authority in Jaspeer.
She turns to Ethemark and resigns herself to spending more time with him.
"Very well," she says. "I hope we will not have to go too far.
THE BLUE TITAN THREATENS . . .
BUT THE LYNXOID BROTHERS ARE READY!NEW CHROMOPLAY AT THEATERS NOW!It isn't
far forty minutes by aerial tram from the station nearest the Palace but in
terms of a difference in character, for sheer existential antithesis, a
hundred hours would not be far enough.
Aiah leaves the department files, still in their briefcase, at one of the
palace guard stations. A change of clothing is necessary: Ethemark advises
waterproof boots, overalls, a waterproof hat. Aiah buys them en route.
Dressed like a sewer worker, she enjoys her first ride on an aerial tram. It
flies much faster than she'd expected, and when the high winds catch its slab
sides the tram bobs alarmingly on its cable. Below, boats leave silver tracks
in gray, watery canyons. The white granite towers of Lorkhin Island loom
close, then are left behind.
Once they leave the tram station, they find a water taxi, but the taxi will
take them only so far, and drops them off on a steel-mesh quay scarred with
rust and graffiti. Aiah looks uneasily around her at a decaying, abandoned
factory structure and ramshackle brick tenements.
"You are safe," Ethemark says. "These people know me.
Weathered Keremath faces gaze at Aiah from the pontoon opposite. Our family
is your family.
The white towers of Lorkhin Island are still visible on the near horizon.
Ethemark hails and hires a boatman who happens to pass the quay. The boatman
is twisted a huge creature, broad and powerful, a walking slab designed for a
hard life of manual labor. His family lives on the boat with him, beneath a
tarpaulin roof: an old grandmother a white-haired, wrinkled slab, still
powerful as a truck and a number of children. Their deformities, the
boundless terrain of bone and muscle, become more pronounced as they grow
older the youngest is almost human in appearance, the oldest a near-copy of
her father. The hull is some kind of foam which, when scarred or torn, can be
repaired simply by adding more foam. The boat's engine is a noisy old
two-cycle outboard that runs off the same hydrogen tank as the single-burner
stove, and also powers a dim light stuck up on a short mast forward.
Ethemark nods toward their hosts. "These people are among the more common of
the altered," he remarks conversationally. "They're commonly called
'stonefaces.'" Nictitating membranes shade his eyes. "My kind," he adds, "are
'embryos.'
"Are these terms, ah, insulting?" Aiah asks. "Would I use them in polite [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]