The salarian desert game, p.10
The Salarian Desert Game, page 10
“Okay,” he says again. I feel his hand on my arm, and follow where it guides me.
He drops my arm as soon as we enter the shade provided by the shuttle building, and I can see again. The door opens and closes at once behind us. Fortunately by now I understand why doors work so quickly here, and I was ready to step through it the moment it opened.
Norio goes to a panel on the wall and taps some kind of message onto it. “The shuttle will be here soon,” he says. “Would you like a drink?”
I look around. There isn’t a caf in sight, just a small kiosk with holos on it of glasses of something white and liquid, and a narrow, indented shelf. We’ve arrived later than everyone else, thanks to my shuffling along the path blindly. Most of the other people waiting here are already sipping from small cups. “Sure, yes,” I say.
Norio presses a spot above the shelf, and a small, clear drinking cup emerges onto the shelf. He brings it to me.
I look inside. Milk. I’m not crazy about milk, but after the blistering walk over here, I’m thirsty enough to drink anything. I lift it to my lips. A thin, sweet, slightly sticky liquid fills my mouth. I almost spit it out.
Norio coughs. “It is cactus milk,” he says, his lips trembling with the effort not to laugh.
“You could have warned me.”
“I… I didn’t think in time. I apologize.” His eyes glance quickly around.
I’m about to tell him not to be so formal, when I realize others are watching us. Watching him. Female Salarians, and they’re frowning.
“Thank you for the drink,” I say. Then, although it embarrasses me to have to, I add, “Please have one also.”
He bows his head and gets one for himself as the other travelers waiting for shuttles look away, presumably satisfied.
I take another sip. Liquids are precious here, I remind myself. This time I’m not expecting animal milk, and the taste is actually not bad, plus it’s cool.
A shuttle arrives, an aircar with the single word “Estate” written on its side. It looks large enough to seat ten or twelve people, but we’re the only ones waiting for this one. We step into the vehicle and Norio moves to the row behind me. I sigh. “Please sit beside me, Norio. Where I come from, males are as valuable as females, and have all the same rights.”
He stops. “Where I come from,” he says, not sitting down but not coming forward either, “men are respectful of women. Or else,” he adds softly.
“I won’t embarrass you in front of others. I understand. But there’s no one here to see.”
He comes forward and sits beside me gingerly, leaving an empty seat between us.
The aircar has shaded windows that cut the sun enough that I can bear to look out at this all-white world. As we ride, Norio tells me there are a number of mining triads in this area. Tokosha became the capital city of Salaria because of its closeness to a major discovery of crystal veins. The mines drew people, made them wealthy, and the city expanded to offer them ways to spend their wealth.
Good and bad, I think. If my sister is working in a mine as I expect, it’ll likely be in this area where there’s a concentration of mines. And many of them appear to belong to my grandmother’s triad. With so many mines, how will I find the one where Oghogho is? Now that, apparently, we’re not doing a report on Lady Celeste. Or not doing it yet. I don’t know for sure that it’s off the agenda. For all I know (which is nothing) Agatha was apprehended by the port guards because they don’t want that report written. A little thing like local opposition won’t stop the O.U.B. for long. But until I find Agatha, I won’t know anything: what’s changed, what hasn’t, what was true, what was a lie. Maybe she doesn’t know anymore, either. The further we go into this adventure, the more murky everything will become. That’s the way these stupid visions work. For now, the best I can do is go along with what Idaro told the customs director.
We sail over a low ridge, or sand dune, whatever, and there before us is a white village, ten or eleven single-story buildings. The roofs shine in the sun like mirrors, I’m thinking, till I realize they’re covered with solar panels. The estate is protected by a high wall that’s guarded at the gate by an armed man. I turn to ask Norio what he’s guarding it from, but Norio’s moved back to the row behind me again.
I’m getting a good idea why Philana left this place, and I haven’t even met her mother yet.
Chapter Eight
“I have come from Tokosha to speak to Matriarch Ryo,” I tell the guard at the entrance to the estate when I leave the aircar. “My name is Idaro.” Once again the sun is blinding me and the heat takes my breath away, but I stand up straight and try to look as self-possessed and in control as any Salarian female.
The guard lets me through the gate — Norio has already been admitted — and points to the largest building, a single-story structure spreading out over the ground more like a shopping concourse than a family home.
“I’ll escort her,” Norio offers.
As he guides me across the sand he reassures me that it’s safe, there are no scorpions here. I’m relieved, but that’s not all that’s on my mind. Only I can’t think how to say it. He’s about to leave me at the door when I blurt out, “Norio—” and stop.
He waits, looking at me questioningly.
“Don’t… don’t tell anyone what I told you at the station, okay?”
He grins. “Not if you won’t tell anyone I sat beside you in the aircar.”
I smile back, but it’s a little forced. I don’t like being tied to someone by a secret, no matter how cute he is. It’s better if it’s mutual, but only marginally. I wish I hadn’t told him who I am, but until I saw his reaction, I didn’t know Philana’s existence had been so thoroughly erased from her family. When Norio leaves, heading for one of the farther buildings, I wait a moment, looking around from the shade of the building. How many people live here, I wonder? I don’t see anyone, but I’m not really surprised no one’s outside in this manic heat. I’m just glad I made it all the way from the gate without tripping in my near-blindness. I take a breath and tap the door-pad, feeling like an unwelcome ghost.
The heat is making me dizzy; it seems like forever before the door slides open. A man about Philana’s age stands there looking at me through eyes just like hers. If I had any doubts about coming to the right place, they are immediately dispelled. He motions me inside. I step gratefully into the cooler air.
“I’ve come from Tokosha to speak to Matriarch Ryo. My name is Idaro.” I don’t offer him any further identification. It’s improper of me not to fully identify myself, but he’s a male and can’t demand it from me. He looks the right age to be her brother, or — cousin? What do they call them, the children of the other triad members? They must all be raised together. Whatever they were to each other, I expect he would know who I was referring to, unlike Norio. But I’ve reconsidered the straightforward approach. Obviously Ryo is as unforgiving of her daughter as Philana is of her mother. I don’t want to tip my grandmother off so she can send me away without even seeing me.
“The matriarch is very busy,” he says politely. “If you can tell me your business, I could suggest another family member who could assist you?”
“I have a personal message for Matriarch Ryo. It concerns her family.”
He raises his eyebrows slightly.
I smile as sweetly as I know how.
“I cannot tell you when she may be able to see you, but you may wait if you wish.”
At my nod he leads me to a small windowless sitting room immediately inside the entrance. I haven’t even made it past the foyer doors. The room has three chairs, all made of a strong plastic material with padded seats and back. When I sit down in one it molds to my body and is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in. He hands me a small white towel and leaves, motioning the door closed. Silence descends.
I wipe my hands and face on the towel. It’s moistened with something sticky, maybe the cactus resin, which absorbs the sweat and grains of wind-blown sand from my skin and leaves me feeling remarkably refreshed. Time passes…
Is she keeping me waiting for a reason, or is she really too busy?
More time passes…
Has she decided not to see me? Why doesn’t she just tell me to go? Or is she hoping I’ll give up and leave on my own, no need to explain anything to anyone? “Some stranger came but didn’t stay.”
And more time…
Is she questioning Norio? What will he tell her? I shouldn’t have said anything to him. Don’t trust anyone — that was Agatha’s advice, and I broke it with the first person I met. Norio: his name means ‘man of principles’. How many people live up to their names?
I’m getting drowsy, sitting here in this incredibly comfortable chair. I close my eyes for a moment…
“—riarch Ryo has decided to see you.”
I come awake suddenly through the second half of his sentence. The man who has Philana’s eyes is waiting for me to follow him. I blink away my dream of being chased by a fire-breathing dragon and struggle out of the chair.
He’s looking down at my feet. I glance at them. Well, of course they’re sandy and dirty, it’s hot outside, to understate the case, and I was walking through sand. The towel slides off my lap as I stand up. Oh.
He waits while I remove my sandals and wipe the sweat and sand from my feet, then from the sandals, before putting them back on. I don’t know what to do with the towel, till I see a basket by the door. Should have noticed that earlier.
He bows his head respectfully when I’m done, ready to lead me into the mansion. I bow back — male or not, he’s my elder — and follow him out of the room, and through the foyer door.
White. Walls, floor, ceiling. You’d think they’d get sick of the color. At least the upholstery on their furniture is in blues and greens, and there are holographs on their walls in vibrant colors. I don’t get to see much because the room he leads me to is just down the hall.
This one has a window, a green rug, green cushions on the chairs. The holos on the walls are of Old Earth, woodland scenes. I’ve seen similar ones at the hololibrary. Do the Salarians still long for Old Earth, still find their idea of beauty in its landscapes? They should see the reds, rusts, and pinks of Seraffa, if they want to see beautiful. It strikes me as sad that they hunger for another planet’s colors, rather than learning to love their own. Then again, who could love white on white on white?
Ryo sweeps in soon after the man — her son? — leaves. I rise and bow. She gives me a long, hard look, and not so much as a dip of her chin.
“You imagine you are my granddaughter.”
Norio, I think, annoyed. More than a little annoyed, but there’s no time for that now. “My mother says she is your child, and I know I am my mother’s daughter. Unless Philana was misled…?”
“Philana.” She says the name slowly, as one remembers something lost, but when she looks at me again there’s no hint of affection in her eyes. “Yes, she was misled, but not by me. I might as well know the worst. Who is your father, child?”
“He was Edoan, from Seraffa.” I raise my chin. Let her dare scorn my people.
“Was? Did he die, or leave her?”
I flush, and meet her gaze without answering.
“Ah, she drove him away, then.”
I came hoping to find refuge here until Agatha’s predicament was sorted out. Idaro came to meet her long-lost grandparent. But this is a low blow at Philana, which riles both of us. “Just as you drove her away,” I reply coldly. “I guess she must be your daughter.” I give her a curt bow — angry or not I can still be polite — and start for the door.
I hear a low rumble, and realize with surprise that she is laughing. “You have spirit,” she says, as though she’s judging the merits of something she might buy. “Sit down and tell me why you are here.”
I hesitate. She is a dragon and I don’t like her.
“Or leave,” she says. “But that seems foolish after coming all this way.”
For the second time since she’s walked in, I flush. I’m tempted to leave, but that would mean walking out while she laughs. I sit down.
She raises an eyebrow, and seats herself. She has provoked me to rudeness after all.
“I came to see why my mother left her home,” I say.
“And have you found an answer?”
There’s an unmistakable gleam in her eye. She knows what she is. This time I laugh, I can’t help it. “Maybe,” I tell her.
“It was an expensive answer if that is all you came for.” Then her eyes change, widen slightly. “Is your mother well?”
“Yes, she is,” I say, liking the dragon a bit better for caring, although I suspect she’d deny it.
“Then tell me why you want to join the desert game?”
I didn’t tell Norio that. I only told that to the customs director. I should have guessed my grandmother would check with the port authorities on someone who appeared suddenly at her door from off-planet. Salarians never go into a meeting until they know everything they can about everyone there. And the sarcastic director I spoke to this morning would be delighted to fill Matriarch Ryo in. Norio didn’t betray me.
“I’m not sure I want to take it, yet.”
“But you don’t want to join the O.U.B., like your mother.”
“I’ve been raised in the faith.” I won’t criticize what Idaro’s mother, and my own, believed. What I sort of believe, in my own way. “But no, I don’t intend to become a Select.”
“So you think you’ll try us out. The desert game is not child’s play, girl. It’s not something you try on to see if it fits. It is something you commit to.”
“Not all Salarian girls join the desert game. What happens to those who do, but aren’t successful?”
She shrugs. “Perhaps they become Select.”
I feel my eyes narrow. “My mother joined the desert game and formed a youth triad. I believe that’s considered a successful game. And if you think the Select are not committed, you don’t know anything about commitment.” I’ve gone too far. There’s no greater insult to a Salarian than to say she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I briefly consider apologizing, but I think of Philana and Agatha, and I can’t take back a word.
“Your mother should have named you Ryo.”
I know what she means. It’s true. I remember how I spoke to Philana, not to mention my own mother. “I apologize, Grandmother.” I bow my head. “You are right. I open my mouth and fire comes out, even when I don’t mean it to.”
“Oh, I think you meant it. I think you always mean it. Regretting it later is not the same thing at all.”
I look up at her. She’s not a typical Salarian, quick to take offense and nurse a grudge forever. She’s quick to give offense, but she’s let me get away with returning the favor. This woman I dislike may be the first to understand me. I still don’t like her much. What does that say about me?
“You came here with a desert woman.”
Her words catch me off guard — exactly what she intended, I suspect. “I came here with a Select of the O.U.B. They don’t consult me when they’re recruiting. And this isn’t the only planet that breeds blue-eyed blonds. There’s New Earth, Anglia, Nordicus—” I’m sounding defensive. Stick to the facts, I tell myself, since she probably already knows those. “I paid my transport by giving her language lessons. We parted when the ship docked.”
“And what did you teach her?”
“They wanted me to teach her Salarian. She didn’t know a word of it. Couldn’t learn it, either. Salarian is a subtle language. The best I could do was teach her Central Ang.”
My grandmother smiles. “And you? How did you learn it?”
“My mother has never forgotten that she is Salarian.”
Again I have pleased her, although she doesn’t let herself show it this time, except in a tiny crease at the corner of her eyes.
“You know, Idaro, dragons are considered lucky.”
“For the dragon, maybe. Not so lucky for anyone who comes across one.”
I hear the low rumble of her laughter again. “Then try to be more like your name,” she says.
Watchful. Right. Would the real Idaro have been better at keeping her mouth shut and her eyes open? Well, I can be watchful, too. I can keep my thoughts to myself. In fact, I usually do. I realize now I knew exactly what this lucky, fire-breathing grandmother would respond to, because I understand her.
“I came to learn, Grandmother. Most Salarian girls have fifteen years to understand what it means to be Salarian, to be a member of a triad. I only have until this year’s desert game begins, if I want to join it. And in that time I’ll also have to learn how to survive the desert. I might not be ready in time. I can only tell you that I won’t dishonor the desert game or those who participate in it. I won’t pretend a commitment I don’t feel.”
She looks at me without speaking.
I’m busy thinking, what did I just say? How can I keep that promise? I came here to find my sister. Of course I can’t commit to a desert game, let alone a Salarian triad! And now I’ve promised not to pretend to?
Fortunately, she isn’t a Select or worse, an Adept. My face must be contradicting every word I just said, but she can’t read it. I look up at her. She isn’t even looking at me any more, but off into the air, thinking her own thoughts. She must sense my glance because she focuses on me again.
“I believe you,” she says. “You may stay here for now. Report to the Master teachers for training, and do what they tell you while you decide. But I think we will drop the ‘Grandmother’ reference. You may call me ‘Matriarch Ryo’. We will say you are the grandchild of a distant cousin. Very distant. If you agree, my son Ichiro will take you to your room.”
“Thank you… Matriarch Ryo.”
“I am told you have nothing other than what you are wearing?”
“I left my bag at the space station. I can—”
