Mary Rosenblum - The Eye of God

“Etienne, please. I apologize.” The anguish in Zynth’s voice pierced her.

“Apologize?’ Etienne laughed, winced at the cracked sound, and stared down at the kneeling Rethe. “What for?”

Tears streaked Zynth’s face and she looked frightened. “For referring to its… status,” she whispered. “He… it… told me that it had been the giver for a child. And I thought that because you were its friend, you must know.” She bowed from the waist until her forehead rested on the floor at Etienne’s feet. “I was wrong to be so familiar.”

“Sit up. I knew he… fathered a child.” Tight-lipped, Etienne turned away, met the Eye’s stare. “I knew very well, thank you. You can call him he, or it, or whatever you want. It was his name that startled me. That’s all.”

“But he is a friend?” Zynth asked eagerly. “That will make it easier for you to find him, perhaps?”

The Eye’s stare prodded her and Etienne licked her lips. “I didn’t expect to run into him again,” she said shortly. Not if she could help it anyway. Interesting that Grik hadn’t mentioned his name, since she obviously knew of Etienne’s connection to Duran. “So Duran talked you into bringing him here, and you got in trouble for it. That sounds like Duran. Always the opportunist.”

“It wasn’t… like that.” Zynth stared at the floor between her knees, her face stricken.

Almost without volition, Etienne reached across the space between them to brush wisps of dark hair from her face. “I’m not angry at you.” She let her breath out in a slow sigh. “Really.”

“I should never have told it about… the Eye.”

“Him.” Etienne’s lips were tight. “Say him. ”

“Him.” Head bowed, Zynth spoke so softly that Etienne could barely make out her words. “He… said that he would translate the Eye into sound and vision… so that you might know it, too. And… I could see the light of the Eye shining in his face as he spoke. So I… opened the door for him, even though it is forbidden. And then I came back for him and… he was no longer here.” She raised her head at last, and her face was composed now. “He could not have passed the Gateway, so he must have fallen. I told Grik.”

“Because the Eye was watching?”

“Because life is sacred.” Zynth drew herself up straight, then hesitated. “And yes.” She bowed her head. “Because the Eye watches.”

Etienne sighed. “Will you be punished?”

“This is my punishment.”

She was afraid. Fear was such a universal. Even the coral-reeds felt fear. “It’s just a moon.” Etienne put her arm around Zynth’s shoulders. “Duran is careless.” Careless enough to have cost Vilya her life. “If he fell, it’s his own fault.”

Zynth flinched at her tone. “I just… I have never been… in danger.” She began to tremble. “That is one of the things I like most about your race. There are so many of you,” she said in a nearly inaudible voice. “Is that why you can all walk down the street, have jobs, do things? It… he… Duran told me how he climbed up the sides of mountains. He risked himself!”

“Huh?” I should have a recorder, Etienne thought dizzily. We don’t know any of this. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“He is a… giver.” She blushed. “A breeder? Is that your word? Grik said that because so many of you can create life, none of you really matter to each other.” She eyed Etienne apprehensively. “But you can go with anyone you wish, do anything you want, even risk yourself—just like any it of our people. True?”

“We matter to each other. Some of us matter a lot.” Was love a universal, like fear? Etienne touched Zynth’s cheek lightly. “Can’t your people go with anyone they wish?”

“The ones who are it can.” She hunched her shoulders. “The… few who are he or she… ” She blushed. “…We love. But we can love only one of the cooperative expression. It can be no other way. We… are the jewels of our people, treasured by all. We are tomorrow.”

We. Etienne was beginning to understand. “What you’re saying is that very few of you can breed?” Secretive as they were about their culture, the Rethe were more than open about their physical attributes. They seemed to be potentially hermaphroditic for all their feminine form. Which troubled humanity even more than their female appearance, Etienne thought cynically. Zynth’s blush had deepened. Obviously, reproduction was not a topic of casual conversation.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you.” Etienne ruffled her hair lightly, then took her hand quickly away. That was how she had touched Vilya when she needed to be teased from one of her dark moods. Beyond the flimsy wall, the Eye glared, reminding her that Duran was here and that this was not Vilya. Did she know that he was lost? Etienne wondered suddenly. Duran’s daughter?

Vilya’s daughter, too.

As if that thought had conjured Duran, she felt him. Or someone. The jagged note of human pain and despair pierced her briefly, then faded, dissipating like smoke in a breeze. Etienne turned, automatically groping to pinpoint the source, responding with years of search and rescue practice. But it had been too brief, too weak, for her to be sure of more than a vague direction.

“What is it? Do you sense him?” Zynth’s hands came up, fingers stiffly together. “He is alive? Oh please, he is still alive?”

“Yes.” Etienne looked up to meet the Eye’s stark gaze. “He’s alive. And injured. I don’t know how badly.”

“He must live.” Zynth leaned forward to clutch Etienne’s hand. ‘Your biotechnology is quite good, really. We will find him, and your people will heal him. Where is he?”

“Out there.” Etienne nodded at the cliff edge. “I couldn’t get an accurate position,” she said stifily. Zynth smelled of cinnamon, with a musky undertone that was unfamiliar, but not repulsive. Not like Vilya at all.

“We will climb down, and then you can hear him better.” Zynth began to rummage urgently in the pack she had brought through the Gateway. “Here.” She handed Etienne a tangle of neon blue webbing. “You know how to put this on, yes?”

A climbing harness. “You’ve pried into my entire damn life, haven’t you?” Etienne clenched her fingers around the supple webbing, wanting to throw it across the chamber. “I don’t climb any more,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Grik did the research.” Zynth put on her thermal suit, and began to don a second harness. She moved clumsily. “You know how. I do not. We cannot use a floater because of the wind.”

“If you don’t know how to climb, then no way you go over that edge.” Etienne crossed her arms.

“It will be safe.” Zynth reached for the pack. “We will anchor the line to the top of the cliff. And you will be with me. So I am not afraid at all.” Her smile filled her face with beauty. Vilya’s face had been filled with the same beauty on that long ago morning when she had propped herself on one elbow in Etienne’s bed and whispered I think I love you. They had both been so young. So sure.

“No.” Etienne swallowed, fighting the images. “Open the Gate for me. I’m leaving. I won’t be responsible for your death. Life is sacred to me, too, damn it!”

For a moment, Zynth faced her, head thrown back, face burning with defiance and Vilya’s beauty. Then her shoulders slumped, and she turned away. “All right, I’ll stay,” she whispered, and her hands quivered with defeat. “I am afraid to go without you. Will you go down?”

Etienne nodded and crawled out of the habitat, with Zynth on her heels. Bending into the gusty wind, she snapped the clasps on her harness. Her fingers were trembling. I will get you for this night, she promised Grik silently. Somehow, some day, I will pay you back for doing this to me. Lips tight, she took the anchor drill that Zynth handed her.