Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (33 page)

“The ones that aren’t terminated,” said Sigus.

Proctor Emis shot the old man an irritated look.
 
She raised her hand, gestured sharply.
 
“Leave us.
 
I will escort our guest alone.”

Sigus bobbed his head and stomped off, across the courtyard.
 
The proctor’s attendants watched him go, rolling their eyes.

“You two as well,” said Emis.

John saw the startled expressions flash across the attendants’ faces.
 
One looked as if he were about to protest, but his companion touched his arm and pulled him away.

“Why do I think this isn’t the way things are usually done here?”

“Lewij was right.
 
You are perceptive.”
 
The old woman tucked her hands behind her back and picked up her pace.
 
 
“And this entire visit is highly irregular, Mr. Epcott.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, but Lewij believes you could be useful to our order, in the future.”

“Does she?”

“She does.”

They had reached the entrance to the House, a shadowed doorway that existed between the stone-woman’s breasts.
 
Through the rounded doorway, John could see pale blue walls and floors.
 

“So, you’re cultivating me?”

Proctor Emis chuckled.
 
“Like darkwater fruit.”
 

“Isn’t darkwater fruit poisonous?”

“You never know,” said the old woman, “until you harvest it and remove the rind.”

* * * * *

 
Proctor Emis led him into a cozy room, lit by a single spherical illuminator in the ceiling.
 
A greenwood table had been set up for tea, with three chairs arrayed around it.
 
Imiro Lewij occupied one of the chairs.

John’s first impression of Lewij was that she looked tired.
 
Her face had lost some of its plumpness and her yellow hair looked dull and lank.
 
Still, when she stood to welcome him, her smile seemed genuine.

“John, it’s good to see you.”

The proctor nodded John toward the seat opposite Lewij, while she settled herself midway between the two.
 

Lewij eyed the older woman.
 
“I don’t think a chaperone is really necessary, proctor.
 
Do you?”

“Yes,” said the old woman.
 
“This is your first full flowering, Lewij.
 
It would not be wise, or appropriate, to leave you alone with an outsider.”

Lewij snorted, shrugged.
 
“As you wish.
 
Shall I serve?”

“Please,” said Emis.
 

“I thought I was resistant to your pheromones?” said John.

Lewij poured yellow tea into a cup and passed it to him.
 
“You are, but . . . .”
 
She hesitated, glanced at the proctor.

“When we flower,” said the old woman, blandly, “we devotees enter a state of intense sexual arousal.”
 
She gave Lewij a pointed look.
 
“It can affect our judgment.”

John blinked.
 
Across the table, Lewij’s fingertips were rosy.
 
She looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or angry.
 
John sipped his tea.
 
It was bittersweet and warm.

Emis accepted a cup and promptly dunked a savory stick into it.
 
“Bitter is better,” she explained.
 
“I can barely taste sweets any longer.”

“Proctor Emis says that you’re cultivating me,” said John.
 
“Like a bush.”

Lewij snorted.
 
“I wouldn’t have put it like that.”

“I didn’t,” protested the proctor.
 
“I compared him to darkwater fruit.”

“Better,” admitted Lewij.

“Whatever you compare me to,” said John, “I think you’re overestimating my influence.”

“I don’t think so,” said Lewij.
 
“Look at the people you casually associate with, John. Lol Kitos. Jata Fex.
 
Odosu Sufo. Uqqex of Zerrax.
 
And, just the other day, Talala Esomo.”

John stared at Lewij.
 
“I just met Esomo the other day.
 
How did you know?”

Proctor Emis frowned at Lewij, who had the good grace to look embarrassed.
 

“Your movements are followed.”

“Lewij!” Emis sounded genuinely shocked.

“Not by me,” said Lewij.
 
She glanced at John.
 
“By your admirers.”

“Ah.”
 
John fiddled with his cup.
 
“Them.”

“Who?” asked Emis.
 
“I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of this conversation.”

“My stalkers,” said John.

The proctor’s frown deepened.
 
“What?”

“Xenophiles,” clarified Lewij.
 
“John is a popular subject among them.”
 
Her smile grew teasing.
 
“Especially since Uqqex released her latest work.”

“Uqqex has a new book out?”

“A collection of poems, actually,” said Lewij.
 
“One of them is dedicated to you, John.
 
It’s called
The Solitary Lover
.”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“It’s very sensual,” said Lewij.
 

John blinked.
 
Lewij was looking at him with frank, sexual appraisal.
 
He fought the urge to squirm.

Frowning, Proctor Emis reached across the table and touched Lewij’s arm.
 
“Imiro.”

Lewij blinked, seemed to come back to herself.
 
Her fingers flushed with blood and she dropped them into her lap, beneath the table.

“Oh!
 
I’m...I don’t know what came over me. . . .”

“You’re still flowering,” said Emis, kindly.
 
“Perhaps we should end this meeting?”

“Perhaps,” admitted Lewij.
 
She stood, a bit unsteadily, and John rose from the table as well.
 
“It was good seeing you again, John. I wish . . . .”

He smiled, inclined his head.
 
“It was good seeing you again too.”

“Proctor Emis will take care of you,” said Lewij.
 
She nodded at the older woman, and then hurried out of the room.
 
John sat, a thoughtful look on his face.

Emis sighed, reached for the teapot.
 
“Poor woman.
 
It’s worse when the flowering happens so late in life.
 
It’s almost as bad as going through the
deph-mog
.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She’ll manage,” said the proctor.
 
“We’ll see her through it.
 
And, if she can bend a little, she might actually enjoy it.”

“Really?”

The old woman nodded.
 
“Oh yes.
 
I find that there’s nothing like a quick tryst to get the blood singing.
 
More tea?”
 

Amused, John offered his cup.
 
The proctor topped it off.

“You’re aware of the toxin our bodies produce?”

He nodded, sipped his tea.

“We have to purge it, or it starts affecting us.
 
The most efficient way to do that is sex.”

John’s tea almost went down the wrong way.
 
He put his cup down.
 
“I . . . had no idea.”

“Not many outsiders do.
 
Most of them just think we’re debauched.”

“Can’t medical implants counter the effects?”

“To a degree,” said Emis.
 
“But not indefinitely.”
 
She grinned at him.
 
“The traditional way remains the best way.”

“Well, that information certainly isn’t in the public infobases.”

“Most would consider it too prurient.”

“Funny,” said John.
 
“I wouldn’t expect Junians to have these kinds of hang-ups about sex.
 
You’re all so affectionate, always touching each other and hugging.”

Emis laughed.
 
“You’d be surprised.”

“I’ll defer to your experience,” said John. He grinned, in spite of himself.
 
“But I’m curious, proctor, as to how you and Lewij think I’ll be able to help you?
 
What, exactly, do you want?”

“A Colony of our own, Mr. Epcott.”

He frowned.
 
“I don’t understand.
 
Surely you can muster enough devotees to found your own Colony?”

“Easily.
 
The problem is getting the Colonial Authority to cede us a world.”

“Ah,” said John.
 
“I take it your reputation precedes you?”

“Very well put.
 
There is that and fierce competition from other groups.
 
Choice worlds are few and far between.”

“So, what do you want from me?” asked John, genuinely puzzled.

“Many guardsmen who retire from active military service, often take positions with the Colonial Authority,” said Emis.

“I don’t know anyone in the Colonial Authority.”

“Not yet,” said the proctor.
 
“But, you will.
 
And, if they should happen to ask for your input on assigning colonization rights to certain groups. . . .”

“Ah. You want me to talk up your order.”

“It would be appreciated,” said the proctor.
 
“And, we would be grateful.”

“I’m not for sale, proctor.”

“Of course not, Mr. Epcott.
 
We would never think to offer you a bribe.
 
Just our thanks.”

“Really?”
 
He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism.

“Lewij seems to think you wouldn’t need anything else.
 
She described you as a man of good character.
 
Given what I know of her background, that’s high praise indeed.”

“Flattering,” said John.
 
“Who else has she brought into her web?”

“Why, Mr. Epcott!
 
You make it sound positively sinister.”

“This does have a certain clandestine feel to it, proctor.”

“Let me assure you, this is all perfectly normal.
 
Most colony groups recruit supporters for their cause.”
 
The old woman snorted.
 
“As you can imagine, this is something of a problem for us.”

“I imagine it would be.”

The old woman regarded him for a moment.
 
“Will you help us?”

John considered the question for a few moments. “If I can, but I’m not making any promises.”

Proctor Emis smiled.
 
“All we ask is that you keep an open mind.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She nodded, studying him with dark, thoughtful eyes.
 
“I’m sure you will, Mr. Epcott.”

* * * * *

 
The city of Seven Lakes was one of the oldest on Juni, its history stretching back millennia to when Junians first began to settle into stationary communities.
 
Its age was apparent in the buildings of the First Quarter, which had grown into a tangled, ivory-colored knot.
 
Domed towers reached toward the sky, connected by aerial walkways.
 
The city had a complicated mass transit system that left visitors dazed and wondering. Scattered throughout the metropolis were the original seven lakes, considered sacrosanct by the locals, their shores crowded with temples and shrines.