Brian Aldiss - Helliconia Winter

They fell silent. Young Odim entered and announced to Luterin that Toress Lahl awaited him in an upper room. He cursed and stumbled after the man up a rickety stair without a backward look at Insil, certain that she would remain where she was for some while.

Luterin was shown into a small cabin, before which a curtain did duty for a door. Inside, a bed served as the only furniture. Beside the bed stood Toress Lahl. He was astonished at her girth until he remem- bered that he was much the same size.

She had certainly grown older. There was grey in her hair, although she still dressed it as she had done ten years ago. Her cheeks were rough and florid with the abrasion of frost. Her eyes were heavier, although they lit as she smiled with recognition. In every way, she seemed unlike Insil, not least in the kind of calm stoicism with which she presented herself for his inspection.

She wore boots. Her dress was poor and patched. Unexpectedly, she removed her fur hat—whether in welcome or respect he could not tell.

He took a step towards her. She immediately came forward and embraced him, kissing him on both cheeks.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“I saw you yesterday. I was waiting outside the Wheel when they let you free. I called to you but you did not look my way.”

“It was so bright.” Still confused by the occhara, he could think of nothing to say. He wanted her to make jokes like Insil. When she did not, he asked, “Do you know Insil Esikananzi?”

“She has become a good friend of mine. We’ve supported each other in many ways. The years have been long, Luterin… What plans do you have?”

“Plans? The sun’s gone down.”

“For the future.”

“This innocent is again a fugitive… They may even try to blame me for Asperamanka’s death.” He sat down heavily on the bed.

“That man is dead? It’s a mercy…” She thought and then said, “If you can trust me, Luterin, I could take you to my little hideout.”

“I would only be a source of danger.”

“That’s not what our relationship is based on. I’m still yours, Luterin, if you will have me.” When he hesitated, she said pleadingly, “I need you, Luterin. You loved me once, I believe. What choices do you have here, surrounded by enemies?”

“There’s always defiance,” he said. He laughed.

They went down the narrow stairs together, taking care in the dark. At the bottom, Luterin looked into the rear room. To his surprise, the couch was empty and Insil had gone.

They bid good-bye to young Odim and made their way into the night.

In the gathering darkness, the Avernus passed overhead, making its swift transit of the sky. It was now a dead eye.

At last the splendid machine had run down. Its surveillance system was only partly functional. Many other systems — but not the vital ones — were still operational. Air still circulated. Cleaning machines still crawled through walkways. Here and there, computers still exchanged information. Coffee machines still regularly brought coffee to the boil.

Stabilisers kept the Earth Observation Station automatically on course. In the port departure lounge, a toilet regularly flushed itself, like a creature unable to suppress weeping fits.

But no signals were returning to Earth.

And Earth no longer had need of them, although there were many who regretted the termination of that unfolding story from another world. For Earth was moving beyond its compulsive stage, where civil- isation was measured by the quantity of possessions, into a new phase of being where the magic of individual experience was to be shared, not stored; awarded, not hoarded. The human character became involuntarily more like that of Gaia herself: diffuse, ever changing, ever open to the adventures of the day.

As they went through the dusk, leaving the village behind them, Toress Lahl tried to talk of superficial things. Snow fell, blowing in from the north.

Luterin did not reply. After a silence, she told him how she had borne him a son, now almost ten years old, and offered Luterin Anecdotes about him.

“I wonder if he will grow up to kill his father,” was all Luterin said.

“He is metamorphosed, as we are. A true son, Luterin. So he will survive and breed survivors, we hope.”

He trudged behind her, still with nothing to say. They passed a deserted hut and were heading for a belt of trees. He glanced back now and again.

She was following her own train of thought. “Still your hated Oligarchy is killing off all the phagors. If only they understood the real workings of the Fat Death, they would know that they are killing off their own kind too.”

“They know well enough what they’re doing.”

“No, Luterin. You generously gave me the key to JandolAnganol’s chapel, and I’ve lived there ever since. One evening, a knock came at the door and there was Insil Esikananzi.”

He looked interested. “How did Insil know you were there?”

“It was an accident. She had run away from Asperamanka. They were then newly married. He had brutally sodomised her, and she was in pain and despair. She remembered the chapel as a refuge—your brother Favin had taken her there once, in happier days. I looked after her and we became close friends.”

“Well… I’m glad she had a friend.”

“I showed her the records left by JandolAnganol and the woman Muntras, with the explanations of how there was a tick which travelled from phagors to mankind carrying the plagues necessary to mankind’s survival in the extreme seasons. That knowledge Insil took back with her, to explain to the Keeper and the Master, but they would take no notice.”

He gave a curt laugh. “They took no notice because they already knew. They would not want Insil’s interference. They run the system, don’t they? They knew. My father knew. Do you imagine those old church papers were secret? Their knowledge became common knowledge.”

The ground sloped. They picked their way more carefully toward where the caspiarn forest began.

Toress Lahl said, “The Oligarch knew that killing off all phagors meant ultimately killing the humans— yet still he passed his orders? That’s incredible.”

“I can’t defend what my father did—or Asperamanka. But the knowledge did not suit them. Simply that. They felt they had to act, despite their knowledge.”

He caught the scent of the caspiams, inhaled the slight vinegary tang of their foliage. It came like the memory of another world. He drew it gratefully into his lungs. Toress Lahl had two yelk tethered in the shelter of the trees. She went forward and fondled their muzzles as he spoke.

“My father did not know what would happen if Sibornal was rid of phagors for ever. He just believed that it was something necessary to do, whatever the consequences. We don’t know what will happen either, despite what it may say in some fusty old documents…” More to himself, he said, “I think he felt some drastic break with the past was needed, no matter what the cost. An act of defiance, if you like. Perhaps he will one day be proved right. Nature will take care of us. Then they’ll make a saint of him, like your wicked saint JandolAnganol.

“An act of defiance… that’s mankind’s nature. It’s no good just sitting back and smoking occhara. Otherwise we should never progress. The key to the future must lie with the future, not the past.”

The wind was getting up again; the snow came faster.

“Beholder!” she said. She put a hand up to her rough face. “You’ve grown hard. Are you going to come with me?” she asked.

“I need you,” she said, when he did not answer.

He swung himself up into the saddle, relishing the familiarity of the act, and the response of the animal beneath him. He patted the yelk’s warm flank.