Child of Venus (7 page)

“Anyway,” Mahala said, “even Habbers can't just do whatever they like. My grandmother's brother Benzi isn't staying on the Islands because he really wants to be there—he thought he should be here, working for Venus. That's what Risa says.” Benzi spoke to them occasionally, and she dimly recalled a visit from him. He and Risa might share some genes, but Benzi Liangharad was a Habber, apart from any family he had here. He had already lived a century, as many years as most people ever did, yet age had left him unmarked. Mahala had seen his eyes change when she looked up into his face, as if he had suddenly forgotten her or was gazing beyond her at something else.

They walked on. As they were coming to the road, Mahala glimpsed Ragnar's blond head among the trees. “I was right,” Solveig said under her breath.

“I didn't say anything to anybody,” Mahala said hastily. “I don't want him coming after me because he thinks I told.”

“I'll tell him that. He won't bother you—I'll see that he doesn't. I have to go.”

“But—”

Solveig hurried toward her brother; the two quickly vanished among the trees.

Why was Solveig being so kind? The blond girl barely knew her and had no reason to look out for her. Mahala came to the road, still tired, and decided to wait for a passenger cart.

“Greetings.”

Mahala looked up, surprised; she had not seen the pretty dark-haired woman near the road.

“I thought I saw that boy who was fighting with you the other day,” the stranger continued. “He didn't try to hurt you again, did he?”

“No, and he isn't going to—at least that's what his sister says.” Mahala walked on; the woman kept at her side. “I'm not supposed to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“That's what my grandfather said.”

“I can't imagine why. I knew your parents, child. In fact, I knew them extremely well.”

Mahala was intrigued. “You did?”

“I lived in their house. I was one of those closest to them.”

Neither Sef nor Risa had mentioned that. “Who are you?” Mahala asked.

“My name is Lakshmi Tiris. You look very much like your mother, Mahala.” No one had ever told her that. She had Chimene's long black hair and Boaz's large, almost black eyes, but Mahala knew that she was far from being a beauty. Risa would tell her that people were not responsible for their looks and that character was much more important than appearance, but Mahala had sometimes wished for more of her mother's grace.

“Perhaps we can talk,” Lakshmi went on. “My house isn't far—it's just over there.” She waved a hand at a cluster of houses set back from the road. “There are things I've wanted to say to you.”

Mahala was curious. “I can't,” she managed to say. “My uncle's coming to visit. I should get home—he might already be there.”

The woman raised her brows. “Your uncle?”

“My uncle Dyami.”

“Yes, of course. He never did move back to Oberg, did he?”

“He lives in Turing.”

“Strange, isn't it, how many of those who were imprisoned in Turing chose to stay there after the Revolt, after they were free again.” Lakshmi was silent for a while, then said, “We have something in common, you and I. Chimene took me into her household when I was only a girl. My parents were so honored when she asked if I could live with her and her companions—they were thrilled that I would be so dose to the Guide. Our family had been part of Ishtar almost from the beginning, you see, and when Chimene and Boaz singled me out, my mother and father were terribly pleased. In a sense, I was your mother's first child, although I thought of her more as an older sister. You may carry her genes, but I was the child of her spirit.”

“But my grandmother never—”

“Your grandmother didn't want me to come back here,” Lakshmi interrupted. “I've been living in the Tsou Yen settlement between shifts, with an aunt, but I wanted to come back to Oberg. It was time for me to come back.” Lakshmi's voice was hoarse, as if she had to force herself to speak. “I was close to your father, too. Has your grandmother told you much about him?”

Mahala shook her head.

“I thought not. They were enemies, your father and Risa. She probably thinks it's wiser not to talk to you about him or about your mother, either. She knows plenty about Boaz and Chimene that others don't know, things that will never be part of their records.”

“Risa told me about my parents,” Mahala said.

“I wonder if she told you everything. In Ishtar, we were taught to share all of our thoughts and feelings. I have never felt that secrets were necessary.”

Mahala knew that she should not go any farther with this woman, but could not pull herself away. Lakshmi had turned from the road and was following a path made of flat rocks toward the nearest houses. These were new dwellings, set closer together than most of the west dome's older houses, with greenhouses that were extensions of the residences, since there was so little space for separate structures. Mahala did not see anyone around, but people would be coming home before last light. Someone might mention having seen Mahala with Lakshmi, and that piece of news could easily find its way to Risa; her grandmother had a talent for finding things out.

Lakshmi halted in front of one house. “You may come in if you like,” the pretty woman said. “My housemates are all at work today, so we'll have the common room to ourselves until they get home. We can talk about your parents. It isn't right for your grandmother to keep secrets, especially from you about your own mother and father. But Risa Liangharad's probably used to doing as she likes.”

“She told me everything about my parents,” Mahala said, still drawn to this woman in spite of herself.

“I'm certain she didn't. You didn't know about me, did you? Risa must think keeping secrets is best for you, but all it means is that everyone here is hiding things from you and that you'll never know what they really think. Even your schoolmates probably know more than Risa ever told you. And I can tell you a lot more, things even your grandmother doesn't know.”

Mahala was frightened now. Her grandparents did not want her talking to this woman, and she had promised to be home early to greet Dyami. Yet Lakshmi drew her. Didn't she have a right to find out what others already knew? Was it fair to have others whispering behind her back? She would find out sooner or later; why not now?

“I have to go home,” Mahala said faintly.

“Then go, child. I'm not about to drag you inside—you may do as you like.” Lakshmi stepped onto the short path that led to the house's main door.

Mahala hesitated, then followed her.

Lakshmi settled Mahala on a cushion in the common room, then sat down across from her. “Would you like anything?” the woman asked. “Some tea or juice—or perhaps a cookie?”

“I'm not hungry.” Bad enough for her to be talking to the woman; she would not eat her food. This common room was much smaller than Risa's, with only one small table and a few cushions on the floor. Judging from the size of the house, Lakshmi could not have more than a couple of housemates. “What's your job, anyway?” Mahala asked.

“I'm just a greenhouse farmer at the moment, but one of the botanists has taken me on as an assistant in his lab. I much prefer it to Bat duty.”

Mahala leaned forward. “You're on Bat duty?”

“Not anymore. I moved here after finishing my last shift, but I might go back to it in a couple of years if they need me. I did fairly well up there—didn't mind it as much as some.”

Mahala was impressed. Those who volunteered for Bat duty earned a fair amount of respect. The Bats were the two winged satellites above Venus's north and south poles, and duty there had its risks, since the workers had to service the robot scooper ships that ferried excess oxygen from the surface installations at the planet's poles to the Bats. The process of terraforming had released much of Venus's oxygen and was continuing to do so. Some of the oxygen was combining with hydrogen to form water for the Venusian oceans; some would remain locked in rock, but the rest of the excess oxygen had to be removed if the Cytherian atmosphere was ever to support life. The oxygen was compressed inside the massive structures at the north and south poles, then brought to the Bats in tanks; some of it was used there for Bat operations, and the rest was hurled into space. There was always a chance that, during this process, the volatile oxygen might explode; Bat duty had claimed a number of lives.

Dangerous as the work was, many young people volunteered to do it. Workers on the Bats were admired for then-courage, and the chance to earn more status, in addition to the extra credit, drew more than enough volunteers.

Risa, Mahala knew, had worked on the northern Bat in her youth. Surely she must know that Lakshmi had taken on the risks of Bat duty; that would be part of the woman's public record. Risa was quick to praise those who volunteered, so why was she so wary of Lakshmi Tiris?

“I'd be afraid to work on a Bat,” Mahala said. Maybe, she thought, she should not have admitted that. “But my grand-mother'll expect me to volunteer if I don't get into an Island school.”

“I once hoped to study there.” Lakshmi's dark eyes glittered, and
her low voice sounded even huskier. “None of the Island schools would take me. I was a good
student as a child—some even called me gifted, but studying got harder for me after that,
after—” She paused. “I volunteered for the Bats as soon as I could.”

Mahala stirred restlessly on her cushion. “But we didn't come here to talk about me,” Lakshmi said. The woman was playing with her long dark hair now, twisting the locks around her hands, piling hair up on her head before letting it fall down her back. “I met your mother when I was a girl. I'd seen her on the screen, of course, and we often listened to one of her recorded speeches during the fellowship's weekly meeting, but there was nothing like seeing her in person. I went to live with her and her household when I was twelve.”

“You told me that already,” Mahala said.

“I wanted to be just like Chimene someday, beautiful and kind and loved by everyone. I longed for someone just like Boaz to love me as much as he loved her. Boaz was an older brother to me at first. He told me that someday, if it was the will of the Spirit, I might be chosen as Ishtar's Guide.” She stared past Mahala, her arms still; it was almost as if Lakshmi had forgotten she was there. “I dreamed of that, but at the same time hoped it would never happen, because it would have meant living in a world without Chimene.” She plucked at a strand of hair. “The fellowship isn't the same with Lena Kerein as the Guide, but then I left it some time ago. I suppose you could say that I lost my faith, as so many others did, after Chimene took her life.”

“My grandmother told me why she did that,” Mahala said.

“Because she was sorry? Is that what Risa Liangharad told you?” Lakshmi's mouth twitched slightly. “Oh, she was sorry, all right. She also didn't want to face a hearing, one where she might have been accused of murder, among other deeds.”

Mahala wanted to run from the house. I shouldn't have come here, she thought; I should have listened to Risa.

Lakshmi said, “You don't know how your father died, do you?”

Mahala tensed. “Yes, I do. Risa said a physician gave something to him, so I guess he wanted to die, too.”

Lakshmi folded her hands. Mahala could simply get up and leave, but had the feeling that the woman might stop her. Tell me, she thought; tell me everything and get it over with. It was strange that she could be so frightened, so certain that Lakshmi would tell her something horrible, while still wanting to hear it.

“I was with your father when he died,” Lakshmi murmured in her husky voice. “I loved him, and he loved me— that was our secret, that we were lovers. I didn't want it to be a secret, but Boaz said we would keep it to ourselves for only a little while, that people wouldn't understand if they found out. I was only a child, you see.”

Mahala shook her head in protest. She had a vague idea of what lovers did with each
other, but to use a child that way was one of the worst offenses an adult could commit. “But
my mother—she wouldn't have—”

“She shared herself with other men, just as Boaz did with women, but she never knew what had happened between us. I was still a child in her eyes, too young for such things. How I longed for the day when Boaz and I could be open about what we felt.”

Mahala said, “I don't want to hear any more.”

“Even about your father's death? Your grandmother lied to you about that. She knows the truth, and so does her friend, that Councilor Yakov Serba. Only a few others know, but they're fearful enough of Risa Liangharad to keep quiet, and you won't find the truth in Boaz's record.” Lakshmi was motionless, except for her trembling hands. “Not all of the truth, anyway, just the fact that a drug brought him his death.”

Mahala tried to get up. Lakshmi lifted a hand; Mahala shrank back. She could not tell what this woman might do; Lakshmi scared her more than anyone she had ever met.

“Your grandmother probably didn't tell you I was in Chimene's house when Boaz was found. I loved him, I thought I knew him, but he had many secrets, even from me. All I knew then was that Chimene had found out he was planning to betray her, that he had plotted with others to surrender all control over our world to Earth, that he was a traitor to Venus and the Project. Some think that Chimene was brave for standing against the traitors in the end and noble for taking her own life out of shame for what was done in her name, but I know better. She didn't want to answer to others for what she allowed to happen. Her own brother Dyami might have been one of the witnesses against her.”

Mahala said, “I'm going.”

“Leave, and you'll never know the truth. Your grandmother will never tell it to you.”