Exile's End Read online

  It was not an easy decision. She would not age a second during the trip, but the rest of the universe would see ten years pass. And on the journey back, another ten years. Everyoneof her generation would be dead by the time she got home, and everything she knew would change.

  On the other hand, the Aldry trial had been the pivot point of her life. When she looked back, everything before it seemed to have led up to that event, and everything after had followed from it. She had spearheaded an effort to change the law—not just Saronan law, but interplanetary law—so that artifacts of surpassing cultural and historical value could be considered by different standards. A case like Aldry’s would never again be decided as if she were a sack of potatoes. It was Rue’s most important legacy.

  Not to go to Eleuthera would mean choosing to miss the end of the story that had shaped her life, and that gave her an unsettled feeling. She wanted to be present at the end, however tragic that end might be.

  Secretly, she cherished a glimmer of hope that sixty years would have changed the minds of the Manhu. Once they saw the artwork they would want to save it.

  And so one day she closed her eyes on Sarona and opened them on Eleuthera. She had expected someone from Eleuthera University to meet her at the waystation, but instead, the small group waiting for her was led by Traversed Bridge. She recognized him instantly. He had aged well. He still wore his hair long, though now it was streaked with gray, and his eyes were feathered with wrinkles. The biggest change was that he now looked confident and happy.

  “This is Softly Bent, the woman who chose me,” he said, “and our eldest daughter, Hanging Breath.”

  The two women were dressed in embroidered jackets, with their hair neatly coiled in buns on top of their heads. They both had a determined look that made Traversed Bridge seem positively easygoing by comparison.

  They collected Rue’s baggage and Traversed led the way to a rented electric groundcar. He drove, with Rue in the seat beside him. The city around them was a hive of activity. Everything seemed shiny, new, and under construction.

  “I’ll take you to your hotel so you can rest up,” he said.

  “Thank you. I’m too old for this interstellar travel nonsense.”

  “Tomorrow, we will go to the university to open the shipping capsule.”

  “It has arrived?”

  “A couple weeks ago. They have had it in storage, acclimating.”

  “Good. I am glad they are treating her well.”

  He glanced at her sideways. “People are quite curious about why you are here. There are some who think you have come to snatch her back. If they are guarded with you, that is why.”

  “They can rest easy,” Rue said. “The decision can’t be unmade, unless the Manhu change their minds.”

  “That is what I told them.”

  They drove on a while in thoughtful silence.

  “Did you ever build your dam?” Rue asked.

  He smiled. “Yes. You will see it, if you come to our village.”

  “Of course I will come to your village. I’m not going to travel all this way and not visit the Manhu.”

  He nodded, but glanced at her again. “They made a song about me,” he said.

  “About your role in the trial, you mean?”

  “About my journey, the trial, everything. And they gave me a new name when I got back. It is a great honor. I am now called No.”

  “Why No?” “Because when people kept trying to get me to do this and that, and accept less than we wanted, I kept saying no.”

  “Hmm,” she said. “That would be fine, except that the right answer is almost never ‘no.’ The right answer is ‘maybe.’”

  “I will tell them you said that,” he said, amused. “You are in the song, you know.”

  “I can imagine. Probably the wicked woman guarding her treasures like a dragon.”

  “No, in our songs, dragons are lucky.”

  She decided she liked Traversed Bridge. Of course, she had never disliked him. She had always thought his convictions were misguided, but sincere and deeply held. But then, so were hers.

  The next morning it was an ethnologist from the university, Magister Garrioch, who picked her up. He was a young man with a curly blondbeard and a worried expression. Leading her to the car, he told her how he had done his dissertation on the Manhu, and had profound respect for them—“But this Immolation idea that No picked up on Sarona is just plain crazy.” As she settled into the car, he paused before shutting the door. “Can’t you persuade them not to go through with it?”

  She gave a wry laugh. “I tried that once. It didn’t end well. Anyway, what makes you think I would have any leverage?”

  “No is key to this,” he said. “He is deeply respected, and he respects you.”

  “If that is true,” Rue said, “he started respecting me as soon as I stopped trying to persuade him of things.”

  Lookingfrustrated, Garrioch went around to the driver’s seat and started the car. After several blocks Rue said, “I take it there is nothing you can do to prevent the Immolation?”

  He shook his head. “Whenever I try to argue, No points out that the Manhu were promised freedom when they came to Eleuthera. He gets really legalistic about it.”

  “I’m afraid we taught him that,” Rue said.

  “Unfortunately, his argument goes right to the core of our values here. We really believe in freedom.”

  “Even freedom to do stupid and self-destructive things?”

  “Even that—as No keeps pointing out. Infuriating old man.”

  “He was an infuriating young man, too.”

  Since Eleuthera had no proper museum facilities, the university was storing the shipping capsule in the basement of their humanities building. When Rue and Garrioch arrived, they found Traversed Bridge waiting along with a delegation of sevenManhu. They looked out of place in the youthful bustle of the glass and brick lobby. All but two of them were elderly women dressed in drab gray. Traversed Bridge introduced Rue to one who seemed to be their leader. “Magister Savenga, this is theKin Mother of the Whispering Kindom, Vigilant Aspire. She is my aunt.”

  Respectfully, Rue said, “I am pleased to meet you.”

  Vigilant was a tiny, aged woman, but her eyes were quick and watchful. She regarded Rue with polite suspicion.

  Magister Garrioch led them alldownstairs into a room off the loading dock, where the shipping capsule waited, still sealed after its long journey. A conservator and two students stood waiting in white lab coats. There was an air of hushed anticipation.

  “Vigilant Aspire, would you care to break the seal?” Garrioch said.

  She stepped forward and undid the latch. As Garrioch and Traversed Bridge raised the lid, a sigh of old nitrogen escaped. Inside, the artifacts rested in their cushioned cradles. The room was silent as the conservator and her helpers lifted the pieces one by one onto a waiting table: first the drum, then the carved baby, the eggshell, and the knife.

  There was a moment of consternation when that appeared to be all. Rue said, “The portrait is underneath.”

  The students lifted the tray that partitioned the capsule, and the artwork was revealed. They tilted it vertical so everyone could see.

  There were gasps. Aldry looked exactly the same as in Rue’s memories from sixty years ago. She shone, radiant, even in the industrial lighting of the workroom, with her wings revealed. She had never looked so beautiful. Rue felt a painful exaltation at the sight. It had been years since anything had made her feel like this.

  Vigilant Aspire’s cheeks were wet with tears. She looked reverent, moved to the bottom of her soul. Rue looked at Traversed Bridge. He also was staring at Aldry, a hint of sadness in his gaze.

  The Kin Mother moved forward and raised a hand as if to touch the artwork. Rue suppressed an automatic urge to give a warning about the delicacy of the surface. It was no longer her responsibility—or her right. The Manhu owned the artwork now.

  Vigilant brought her lips clo
se to the painting and whispered something to the girl with the wings. Then she stepped back, overcome. Another old woman put an arm around her shoulders.

  The Manhu spent a long time examining the artifacts and the artwork. The room seemed to fill with their emotion, tangible as smoke. Traversed Bridge hung back in order to let the others see everything, and Rue took a seat beside him. “What did she say to Aldry?” she whispered to him.

  “She welcomed her home,” he said.

  At length, the students returned everything to the capsule and latched it again, and Traversed Bridge made arrangements to have it picked up in a truck for the journey to the Manhu village of Threadbare. Rue learned that Magister Garrioch was going to accompany them, and arranged to ride with him.

  They set out the next day in a convoy of cars, escorting the flatbed truck carrying the capsule, strapped down under a tarp. It was a long drive into misty, forested hinterlands. The farther they drove, the higher the mountains became and the worse the roads, till they were following a bumpy dirt track that writhed along the sides of sheer gulches, precipices above and chasms below. It was late afternoon when they rounded the shoulder of a mountain and saw a wide valley open up before them: green, terraced fields, a sparkling river, a bridge, and a cluster of tile-roofed homes. The convoy stopped so they could call ahead to announce their arrival and the women could change into brightly embroidered jackets.

  “It doesn’t look threadbare at all,” Rue said to Garrioch as they stood at the side of the road looking down on the village.

  “Not now. They have made enormous progress in the last fifty years, especially since they put in the dam.” He pointed, and Rue saw it. She had expected something of earth and wood, but instead it was a sheer crescent of concrete, cutting off a narrow gap in the mountains upstream.

  Traversed Bridge walked up to them. He saw where she was looking and smiled. “What do you think of it?” he said.

  “It’samazing, Traversed. I can’t imagine how you built it out here.”

  “We had to set up a plant to make the concrete,” he said. “We imported the steel sluice gates and machinery, but we did it all with local labor. It took a long time.”

  “It’s a great achievement. A wonderful legacy.”

  “Yes,” he said, gazing at it proudly.

  The rest of the convoy was ready to proceed. “Would you like to ride with me?” he asked her.

  She surveyed the situation, then shook her head. “Thank you, but I think I’d better stay in the back of the parade. This is for you and your people.”

  He nodded, and headed to his car.

  When they came down the steep hill into the village, they found the road lined on both sides with people dressed in their brightest clothes. The convoy passedbetween jubilant villagers shouting, singing, pounding on drums, and shaking rattles. After the last car passed, the people crowded into the roadway, joining the procession as it threaded through the narrow streets and downhill toward an open plaza near the river.

  The vehicles stopped in front of a large community meeting house, and the crowd pressed around them. Two young men jumped onto the bed of the truck and threw the tarpaulin off the capsule. All noise ceased as they unlatched the cover and threw it back. One of them picked up the drum and held it overhead so everyone could see, then passed it down to someone in the crowd. The other objects followed. Then, after a moment of puzzlement, they uncovered the portrait and raised it high between them, showing it to the crowd. It flashed iridescent in the sun, and there was a collective gasp. For a moment, all was silent; then someone began to sing. Others joined in, till the whole crowd was singing solemnly, in unison.

  “It’s a welcome song,” Garrioch said to Rue.

  The two men descended from the truck and began to carry Aldry around the town square so everyone could see her. The people holding the artifacts fell in behind. The crowd drew back reverently to let them pass. Everywhere, people wept in joy.

  Rue realized that Traversed Bridge had come up and was standing beside her, watching. She said, “I am glad to see them so happy.”

  He nodded. “They have known nothing but pain for so long. Generations. You can see all that pain pouring off of them, washing away.”

  He had been proud of the dam, but now his pride came from a deeper spot. This was his true legacy, Rue thought. Surely now he would reconsider throwing it all away. Aldryherself was the true persuader.

  After circling the crowd twice, the procession of artifacts passed inside the community hall, and people started lining up for a chance to see them all again. The sun had dropped below the mountain to the west, and the air was growing chilly. A festival atmosphere had taken hold. Five musicians began to play on pipes and drums, and brightly dressed girls formed a ring for dancing.

  “Would you both do me the honor of staying at my home tonight?” Traversed Bridge asked Rue and Garrioch.

  “Thank you, that would be lovely,” Rue said.

  Reminded of something, Traversed said, “Just don’t ask my wife if you can help with anything. It will offend her.”

  “Of course.”

  His home was close to the center of town, as befitted a leading citizen. It was a large structure with a concrete-block first floor and a second floor of stained wood, with intricately carved shutters and rafters. The windows glowed bright and welcoming, and electric lanterns hung from the eaves.

  Inside, grandchildren were everywhere. When Traversed Bridge’s daughter saw the guests enter, she hustled the youngsters off to another room. Traversed offered the guests something he called “wine,” which turned out to be a potent distilled liquor. They could hear bustling from the kitchen. A young man who bore a striking resemblance to the young Traversed Bridge peered into the room curiously, and Traversed went to give him some sort of instructions.

  Garrioch whispered to Rue, “No is a little hard on his son. The poor fellowcan never live up to his father’s standards.”

  “No doesn’t remember what he was like at that age,” Rue whispered back. Or maybe he does, she thought, and doesn’t want to be reminded.

  They ate a bountiful dinner with the other adults, and then Softly Bent showed Rue to a shared sleeping room with five beds. Tired from the journey, she decided to turn in early, and fell asleep to the sound of music from the town square.

  The next morning she got up just after sunrise and went out, intending to walk to the river. Early as she was, a crew of Manhu were already in the square, building a cone-shape wicker framework that towered ten meters into the air. She sat on a bench in front of the community center, watching them work with a sense of foreboding.

  Garrioch came into the square, took in the scene, and saw Rue. He came over to her.

  “It looks like they’re going through with it,” he said grimly.

  “Yes,” she agreed. The workers were placing firewood and charcoal inside the conical framework.

  “Maybe we should leave.”

  “No,” she said. “Our presence may be a deterrent. There may be something we can do.”

  He looked sick at heart, but sat down next to her.

  All through the morning people came, carrying belongings to hang on the wicker pyramid, or to heap around it. They brought blankets and clothes, food and furniture and fishing tackle, baskets, birdcages, books, and baby cradles. Children contributed drawings they had made and toys they had treasured. Old women brought intricate embroideries, and craftsmen gave up their carvings and tools. Everything valuable, everything treasured, was added to the pile.

  By noon it was a massive tower, and men on ladders were filling the upper tiers. Vigilant Aspire came into the plaza, leaning on Traversed Bridge’s arm. He brought her slowly over to the bench where Rue and Garrioch sat, and they rose to let her have their seats.

  “Are you leaving?” Traversed Bridge asked the visitors.

  “No,” Rue said, facing him with determination. “We are going to watch.”

  He hesitated, taking in her express
ion, then looked away. “As you please,” he said.

  He walked off to find some other people in what was by now a large crowd of two or three thousand. Rue watched as he led a group of four others into the community building. They emerged with each one carrying an artifact. The crowd made way as they proceeded at a stately pace toward the pyre. Each artifact was handed up to a man on a ladder, who attached them high up on the framework. Last of all, Traversed handed up Aldry, and the worker hung her at the very pinnacle of the pyramid. The sun flashed on her wings, spread like a silver bird.

  As the ladders were taken away, some musicians started playing a song on reed pipes and drums, and the crowd gathered round, singing. When the song ended, the musicians threw their instruments onto the pile and drew back. Five men came forward with cans of kerosene and started splashing it on the lowest tier of the pile. The square was so quiet, a child’s voice asking a question echoed loudly, and laughter rippled through the crowd.

  The five mensoaked long-handled torches in the kerosene and lit them, then looked to Traversed Bridge for a signal.

  Rue could no longer hold her peace. She pushed through the crowd to where Traversed Bridge was standing. “Traversed,” she said, and he turned. “For pity’s sake, stop this madness.”

  His face looked set, like concrete. “You don’t have to stay.” Then, as she refused to move or back down, the emotion he had been holding back broke through his control. “You didn’t have to come at all. Why are you even here?”

  “I did have to come,” she said. “I do have to witness, for my people. So you will know the pain you are causing us.”

  “What about our pain?” His voice broke on the words. “Your people never cared about that.”

  “Is that what this is really about? Revenge for wrongs we did to you?”

  He drew a breath, gathering control. “This isn’t about you at all. It’s about us. Our chance to reclaim who we are.”

  “By destroying everything you have achieved, everything you have to be proud of?”

  He looked up at Aldry. “Even Glancing will live in our songs,” he said. “She will still be radiant in our memories. But she will be free. And so will we.”