Cecelia Holland - Floating Worlds

Boltiko had come from Matuko for three watches exactly, to get Saba settled into the Prima Suite. Paula had made her color this bedroom white. There were six ruby-laser paintings on the walls, streams of color constantly changing. She sat cross-legged on the end of the bed and watched a red line curl and curl across the wall. Just when she had felt in control, her life was breaking apart again. The flying colors on the walls made her nervous. Putting on her coat, she went out into the city, to the new White Market in the Steep Street.

She had arranged this market, the first in Vribulo, worked by free people, not Styths. Morosely she walked around the rings of stalls. This was the only practical thing she had ever done. Gradually it was doing more business. People wandered from booth to booth, and a crowd kept her away from the jewelry, the metalware.

Under a sign advertising fabric a vendor in a long apron was stacking bolts of cloth on a table. Nobody seemed to be interested. Paula stopped and put her hand out toward a shining red silk.

“Not that.” Saba pushed her hand away. “That would look terrible on you. I don’t think you have any sense of what you really look like.” He waved to the vendor, who stooped and brought up more cloth. Paula smiled up at the big Styth, pleased to have company.

“Where is Tanuojin?”

“I just saw him get on a bus to Yekka.”

“To Yekka.” She straightened, turning away from the cloth. “But aren’t you taking the Luna Agreement into the Chamber next watch?”

“I don’t need Tanuojin for that. Look at this.”

She looked down at the table again. The textured surface of a panel of black fabric drew her fingers. Woven into the material was an abstract design of gammadions, the good luck sign.

“Give her this,” Saba said. “And that.” He stretched across to reach a bolt of black cloth glinting with silver threads. He faced her again.

“This stuff is Martian fiber, dyed in Venus, shipped in Styth hulls. The Luna Agreements only say the obvious. How can they reject the obvious? There’s one system, that’s the way the system works.”

She paid the vendor and told him to send the cloth to the man who made all her clothes. Everything was twice as expensive as before the war. She clinked the coins in her fist.

“I need a demonstration for the Council. What if three or four ships turned up near Crosby’s Planet?”

“When?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Are you on some kind of schedule?”

“Some kind. I’m getting married.”

“Married. Again?” She had to laugh at him. They started on along the ring of stalls. She looked up at his profile. “Somebody told me once how handsome you were. I suppose you still are. Who is the blessed fifth wife?”

“Ymma’s daughter.”

“Oooh.”

“She’s prettier than he is.”

“I should hope so. When is this to happen?”

“In twenty-two watches.”

“In Lopka? Can I go?”

He was walking slowly so that she could keep up; he gave her a long look sideways. “Ymma asked me not to bring you. Or Tanuojin.”

“Tanuojin wouldn’t go anyway.” That rankled. She thought of Leno. “Ymma took my advice in Luna, didn’t he?”

“That was different.”

“I guess so. I just talked to Merkhiz, and he says he won’t support the Luna Agreement unless I resign.”

“Oh? Somebody must have gotten beside him.”

What Leno said in the Chamber would sway people. She wondered darkly if Saba had already sold her away. Saba stopped to look at a table of plants, each in its ball of dirt wrapped in plastic. She decided to write Newrose as nasty an answer as she could. Saba turned away from the little garden.

“I’ll hold the Agreements back out of the Chamber for a while. Come to my wedding.”

“I’m not going where—”

“I need you. Somebody has to stand forward for me. It’s supposed to be my best friend, but Tanuojin won’t do it. He hates Lopka. You do it.”

Her gaze flew up toward him. “Stand forward for you? You mean be in the ceremony with you?”

“They’ll all be there,” he said. “Leno, Bokojin, everybody.”

“Hunh.” She nodded. “Oh, yes, I will.”

Ymma’s hacked face hid whatever he thought. He spoke the rote words of the ceremony in a voice without feeling. He and Paula stood facing each other before a bilyobio tree. The wedding guests made a ring around them; beyond Ymma she could see Bokojin, looking angry, and Machou, looking drunk.

They were all men, these guests. The women would be watching from the windows of the buildings beyond, except for one, who sat inside the left-hand of the covered chairs by the bilyobio tree. Paula was terrified of forgetting her answers to Ymma’s questions. The ring of witnesses never looked at Ymma; they all stared at her. David was here, too, behind her. Her mouth felt frozen, her lips numb.

“Who are you, coming here as my guest?” Ymma recited. “Tell me your name and your purpose.”

She lifted her voice, so that none of them could say later that he had not heard her. “I am Paula Mendoza. I am the Earth Akellar. I come for the sake of peace, for the Prima’s sake, to take his wife to him.”

Nobody moved. She wondered if they had expected it. Ymma’s voice sounded choked. They exchanged another prescription, and he led her to the gorgeous covered chair, worked in filigreed metal.

His daughter looked no older than David. Pretty as a doll, she sat dressed in a robe woven with gold and gem crystal, her eyes shining with fear. Ymma said, “Daughter, go with this man—” and bit his teeth together. After a moment, he said, “With this Akellar, to live under your husband’s rule.”

The child’s name was Melly. She put her hands out, and Paula took them. At the touch the two women looked surprised at each other. Melly’s hands were icy cold.

There were three oaths, one for each of the steps to the other of the chairs. Once Melly flubbed her answer and Paula prompted her in a whisper. Except for them the place was silent. Saba was waiting in the right-hand chair. He spoke some words and the child replied, her eyes downcast, mumbling. When Saba put his hands around theirs, Melly almost would not let Paula take hers away.

The bride sat down in the chair beside her husband. Paula backed away, lighter by a burden. She had done it perfectly. For the first time, she realized that she had been frightened of botching a Styth ritual. She shut her eyes, smiling.

Finally the door shut on Saba and his bride. The wedding guests let out their breath in a gust of noisy conversation. Paula went after some of them down a strange hall in Ymma’s house.

Most of the people in the sitting room were still standing up. Slaves brought them liquor. Dakkar and Ketac were talking by the far wall. Paula avoided them. Dakkar reminded her of Pedasen.

“I think we’ve just been taken,” Bokojin said. He tramped into the room. “The Earth Akellar.”

“Cool off,” Leno said.

“I don’t care if she hears me.” Bokojin was plowing through the mass of standing men toward the banquet table. The crowd yielded to him, third-ranked in the rAkellaron. His voice boomed. “Is Ymma sure this wedding is legal?”

Paula stood just behind Leno. They had all seen her. She went over to the table for something to eat. Bokojin turned away, his back to her. Dishes covered the table: skewered meats, fruit soaked in liquor.

David had come in. She put a sliver of pala fruit into her mouth, watching him cross the room. His shoulder-length hair was too long to keep neat, and to his horror it curled at the ends. He spoke to Ketac, and Ketac bent to listen, turned, and tapped Dakkar on the arm. They followed David out of the room.