The Terrorists of Irustan (30 page)

“I’ve made a decision, Zahra,” he said. “It’s about Ishi.”

Zahra felt her balance shift, as if her inner ear had suddenly failed her. She gripped the edge of the desk with white fingers. “Qadir!” she exclaimed. “You promised!”

He frowned. “What do you mean, promised? I promised she would always be properly looked after, and she will! You haven’t heard my decision yet.”

Zahra swallowed. The muscles of her thighs trembled as she tried to sit straight. She forced herself to wait in silence.

Qadir cleared his throat. “Of course, Ishi should finish her studies first,” he said, linking his fingers on the desk. “As you did.”

Zahra wished she hadn’t taken off her veil.

“And naturally her husband should be someone who understands the work of a medicant, its importance. He should be someone of education and position, as well. A difficult combination to find. In addition, 1 prefer that Ishi be ceded to someone who is not too old. I don’t hold with the practice of very young brides for men who are past middle age.”

Zahra knew Qadir was watching her closely. She tried with all her strength to appear normal, to hold up a veil of calmness behind which her heart pounded and her mind raged.

“I’m very fond of Ishi,” Qadir said, his eyes intent. “And since it’s high time for Diya to have his own home, I . .

Zahra found her mouth open and dry.

He went on, “I think Diya will understand that a medicant—”

Zahra’s voice scraped from her throat, high and painful. “Not—not Diya! You can’t mean Diya! Not for Ishi!”

Qadir frowned more deeply. “Zahra—why not Diya? He’s done his turn in the mines, he’s been a loyal and devoted help to me—he deserves his reward, as we all do!”

“You mean, as all of
you
do!” Zahra snapped. She stood up, her hands in fists by her sides, her body stiff with fury. Veins swelled in her throat, and blood rushed to her cheeks. “Diya, that sneak? That coward? Qadir, he doesn’t even
like
Ishi!”

Qadir rose swiftly. At sixty, he was almost as lithe as she. His face, too, darkened dangerously. “He does, Zahra! He asked for her particularly!”

“He’s nasty and critical. He’s too old! And he’s stupid!”

White patches showed around Qadir’s lips. “Enough,” he rapped. “Diya is no older than I was when you were ceded to me. He’s smart enough to be in line for a directorship. And I’ve promised him Ishi. That’s all.”

He turned away, and opened the door of his bedroom. “Go to your room, Zahra,” Qadir said smoothly. Just so, she supposed, he ran meetings of the directors of Irustan. “Calm yourself. Confer with Lili.”

Her head swiveled to follow him. “Lili?” she breathed.

Qadir’s smile was terrifying. “She’s your anah, isn’t she? And Ishi’s. Listen to her. She knows what’s best for you both.”

“Qadir, please ...”

The smile vanished as if a light had been put out. “I’m not going to discuss it, Zahra. And I warn you”—he lifted one finger—“not a word to Ishi. That honor is mine.”

Zahra found herself alone in the hallway without knowing how she got there. Moments later she was in her bedroom, though she couldn’t remember walking up the stairs. Ishi was already in bed, propped up with her reader glowing in her lap.

“Zahra? What’s wrong?”

Zahra caught sight of herself in the mirror above the dressing table. Her pupils were expanded with shock, and the irises of her eyes were so dark they were almost black. Two scarlet spots stained her cheekbones, but she was otherwise pale as moonlight. “I—I think perhaps I’m ill, Ishi,” she stammered. “I don’t know what ... I didn’t eat much . . .”

Ishi was out of bed in a flash, her arm around Zahra’s waist, one hand cool against Zahra’s burning cheek. “Here, now,” Ishi said firmly, softly. “Sit down. I’m going to help you off with your dress and tuck you into bed.” She did as she promised, and soon Zahra was being folded into her bed with surprising efficiency. Ishi smoothed Zahra’s hair back from her face, briefly touching the backs of her fingers to her forehead. It was a trick Zahra recognized as her own.“I don’t think you have a fever,” Ishi said. “Are you nauseated? Faint? Do you have any pain?”

Zahra managed a faint, trembling smile. She caught Ishi’s hand in both of hers, and kissed the slender fingers. “No, my Ishi. My own little medicant.” She lay back against her pillow and closed her eyes. “Just rest, I think.” Tears burned beneath her eyelids. She willed them away with the last of her strength.

“If you’re sure, then,” Ishi said. “I’ll turn out the light. If you need anything, promise you’ll wake me.”

“I promise,” Zahra said.

When the room was dark, Zahra opened her eyes and stared out the window. She was exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally, but she gazed into the night sky, thinking, until the little chain of moons rose into view. By then her decision was made. There was one thing she could do, and one thing only.

With her resolve came a sense of relief. She turned on her side and closed her burning eyes, and slept soundly all through the night.

thirty-four

*   *   *

The undersigned assures and promises that this contract is entered into willingly and without coercion, and that agreement with all foregoing principles and requirements is voluntary.

—
Offworld Port Force Terms of Employment

T
he Simah’s
call to worship wailed from the parapet of the Doma as Jin-Li drove onto the landing field. The shuttle gleamed hotly in the blazing light. Other longshoremen, empty carts jouncing over the tarmac, wheeled out to the ship, racing each other. Jin-Li, cap pulled low, eyes grim and tired behind the wide glasses, drove more slowly.

Onani had said little this morning. A grunt, a brief thanks into the wavephone. But he understood. In concise phrases rehearsed throughout the night, Jin-Li had made it quite clear.

“The women are the connection, Mr. Onani. And the children. Binya Maris’s two young wives died under strange circumstances, and he was involved in the death of at least one other woman. Belen B’Neeli’s wife died of a beating. Leman Bezay’s son had psychological difficulties, and before Bezay’s death he was scheduled for the mines. Now he’s disappeared.”

“What about IhMullah, Director IhMullah? The first one?”

“His daughter was supposed to be ceded to Binya Maris. He died before the cession, and the contract was voided.”

Onani had been silent for a moment. Then, “So these deaths—they were deliberate? Vengeance?”

Jin-Li didn’t answer.

“That makes it terrorism,” Onani said flatly.

Jin-Li responded, “Matter of perspective.”

“Chung,” Onani said. “Find out who it is.”

“Not my job, Mr. Onani.”

There was another silence, and then Onani gave a dry chuckle. “Fair enough, Jin-Li. I’ll be in touch.”

“Mr. Onani ...”

“Yes?”

“It’s Doma Day. Can’t do anything today.”

“Right.” And the phone went dead.

Jin-Li faced a long, hot day of labor. Already the heat of the star baked the city and the port. The air was dry, burning in the lungs. The bitumen of the landing field burned even through thick-soled boots. Before the first dry carton was offloaded, Jin-Li’s body was wet with perspiration.

Rocky pulled up his dark glasses and looked at Jin-Li. “You okay, Johnnie?”

Jin-Li nodded.

“Onani giving you trouble?” Rocky persisted.

Jin-Li, startled, stopped in midstride with a carton on one shoulder. “What?”

“Onani,” Rocky repeated. “He called you off the job a while ago. Thought you might be in some trouble.”

“Oh,” Jin-Li said. “No. No trouble.”

“Well, good,” Rocky said. “That’s good, Johnnie. Tell me if you are. Don’t like my guys bothered by the suits.”

Jin-Li hoisted the carton onto one of the slatted shelves. Rocky’s concern was a surprise. Nothing in the foreman’s rough manner had ever hinted at kindness. Or anything like real friendship. But then, Jin-Li thought, I’ve kept my distance from Rocky, from all of them. Would I have noticed?

*   *   *

The Doma Day gathering was at Laila’s. Samir Hilel was just leaving as Zahra and Ishi and Lili arrived. Zahra inclined her head to him. He stared at her as if trying to see through her veil, to see something he hadn’t seen before. A thrill of danger went through her body. Be damned to him, she thought. To all of them. She turned her back on Samir and walked into the house and on to Laila’s dayroom. Ishi and Lili followed.

The children were already helping themselves from a laden table to one side of the room, chattering, laughing, rills open. Rabi was surrounded by the anahs, showing them a swatch of the fabric for her wedding dress. The women exclaimed over it, and over the shining necklace her husband-to-be had sent to her.

The corner where the women of the circle met was silent, an islet of cold and darkness in an otherwise vivid sea. Kalen looked angry, Idora frightened. As they all sat down, Zahra unbuttoned her rill and lifted her chin, looking around the circle, meeting their eyes.

It was Kalen who burst out, in a fierce whisper, “You did another one! You wouldn’t let me, but you did it yourself!”

Camilla said, “Hush, Kalen. Zahra had good reason.”

Idora’s full lips trembled in her round face, and her eyes filled with tears. “What reason? What reason could you have for doing it again? You promised! You said it was over!”

⁴
“Why wouldn’t you let me help?” Kalen shrilled. “I was the first, the very first! And now you shut me out!”

Camilla repeated, “Hush. You’ll frighten the children.”

“But why?” Kalen insisted. She leaned forward in her chair, tense as a tightly strung wire.

“Why do it, or why shut you out?” Zahra asked.

“You know what I mean!” Kalen snapped.

Zahra folded her arms and regarded Kalen for several moments. “If you can refrain from bragging, my old friend, you may escape the cells,” she said coolly. Kalen’s cheeks went as red as if she had been slapped. Idora’s tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Laila, white and silent, looked down at her hands twisted together in her lap.

Zahra took a deep breath. She had planned what she had to say. She knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“My sisters,” she began softly. “We’ve each had very good reasons for everything we’ve done. But there’s no point in all of us being at risk.”

“Zahra!” Camilla breathed. “You’re not going to take responsibility for all of it!”

“I am,” Zahra said simply. “Kalen couldn’t have done anything, you couldn’t have done anything, unless I made it possible. The power was mine, the responsibility is mine. I knew what I was doing. And I knew the risks.” Kalen was speechless for once, her mouth open, her freckles standing out against her flaming cheeks. Camilla spoke for them both. “But we practically forced you! We’ll stand together in this, as in everything!”

Idora sobbed, “What are you talking about? Why are you saying these things? No one’s going to find out, no one needs to know!” Her nose began to run and she wiped it with her drape.

An emotion very like grief gushed through Zahra. She quelled it with an iron will. “If we’re very, very lucky, Idora,” she said, “no one will find out. You can pray to the One that it might be so.

“Listen. This was always about the children, our children, the children of Irustan. Belen B’Neeli’s little daughter came to the clinic, and she has scars and bruises on her legs, the marks of whippings, old ones smothered by new ones. I couldn’t bear to see it. I couldn’t bear to let it go on—to let him win.” Her eyes strayed to where Ishi and Rabi sat together with the anahs. She added, almost to herself, “And I had the power. It was right there, under my hand. I was able to do it, I wanted to do it.” A small, humorless chuckle. “So I did.”

Laila had said nothing yet. Now, her lips trembling in her small face, she said, “I think Samir suspects you, Zahra.”

“Oh, Prophet,” Camilla whispered.

Zahra leaned back in her chair. “Why do you think so, Laila?” she said. She was surprised at how even her voice was, how cool she felt, as if she weren’t really involved.

“He said . . .” Laila had to take a breath, her hand to her throat, before she could go on. “It was late, and he couldn’t sleep, and he said something was bothering him, something about an odd visit from one of the Port Forcemen. A longshoreman. He said he didn’t think about it at the time, but this man was asking questions, strange questions, and then the word came that Belen B’Neeli had died.”

“What else, Laila?” Camilla asked. Her eyes met Zahra’s, and for the first time, there was real fear in them.

“He said he felt sorry for you, Zahra,” Laila said in a breathless rush. “Because two of the men were on your clinic list, because you had to—look at them—when they were dead. Then he began to wonder, about why two were your patients, and why you were willing to do the ... to look at them ...”

There was a pause, and Laila’s eyes flickered from one to another of the circle. “Then he said, suppose someone could do this on purpose? Someone who knew how? Like a medicant.”

A chill silence settled over the five women. Camilla and Zahra stared at each other.

Kalen exclaimed, “We’ll have to take care of Samir, then! I’ll do it! You’ll have to let me do it!”

Laila cried out, wordlessly, and jumped to her feet. The rest of the dayroom fell silent, as every face turned to stare at the circle. Camilla forced a laugh, calling to the anahs, “Never mind! Never mind, all of you. Laila stubbed her toe.”

Gradually, the chatter resumed on the other side of the room. Laila stood before Kalen. Even seated, Kalen was almost as tall as she. Laila leaned close and hissed, “You listen to me, Kalen IhMullah.” Tiny drops of her spittle flew onto Kalen’s hot cheeks. “Listen to every word. If you kill Samir, you’ll have to kill me first. I swear it on my children’s lives.”

Zahra felt a wave of nausea. “No,” she said. “No. All of you, stop it!”

Laila turned on her. “I mean it, Zahra,” she said. Her piping, little-girl voice was as flat and serious as Zahra had ever heard it. “No one threatens Samir.”

“Of course not, Laila,” Zahra said. She held out both her hands, and Laila seized them with grateful intensity. “Now sit down, Laila. Listen to me. Kalen, Idora, Camilla. Listen.

“I’ve spent most of the night thinking this through. It may be that nothing will happen, that no one will figure it out. But if they do, what’s the point of more than one of us paying the price? You have children to think of, every one of you!”

“But you have Ishi,” Camilla said.

Zahra’s throat closed at that. She swallowed. She had already decided not to tell them about Diya. Not even Camilla. This last deed was to be hers alone. “Yes,” she said. “But I have almost finished training Ishi. And this was all about Ishi, anyway. About the women, and the children. About Irustan.”

“What about Qadir?” Camilla asked.

Zahra leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just don’t know about Qadir.”

*   *   *

Jin-Li didn’t sleep well that night. The cart, loaded and locked, waited in the parking area. Early the next morning, when the business of Irustan resumed after the Doma Day break, Jin-Li drove straight to the offices of the port director. The clerk at the reception desk said Director Hilel was out.

“Oh,” Jin-Li said, feeling slow with fatigue and worry. “Is there someone else, then, someone with a manifest? I have medical materiel . . . the shuttle ...”

The clerk said, in a confiding tone, “You know, Kir Chung, I think something’s going on. Director IbSada came to see Director Hilel, and they both went off to the port terminal! It’s very strange, don’t you think?”

Jin-Li stared at the man, mouth going dry, heart beating fast. “The port terminal?”

Another man came down the curving stairway from the upper floor. “Is that the longshoreman?” he called to the clerk at the desk. “I have a manifest for him.” He handed a little reader to the clerk to pass to Jin-Li. “I’m Director Hilel’s secretary. Could you look that over before you leave? The director didn’t have time to finish. Administrator Onani interrupted him. I did my best.”

“Onani,” Jin-Li repeated, looking at the reader without seeing it.

“Yes,” the man said. “Is something wrong with the manifest?”

Jin-Li scrolled quickly through the list of materiel and destinations. “No, no, it’s fine. Thank you, kir.”

His job accomplished, the secretary dropped his voice, as the clerk had done. “Listen, do you know anything about what’s happening? Both directors looked pretty worried. But they didn’t say anything. Not where I could hear.” Jin-Li could only shrug, and say through dry lips, “I’m just a longshoreman. Onani’s business has nothing to do with me.”

A long day stretched ahead, driving back and forth through the baking streets of the city, unloading, checking off, being polite to escorts. The cart was full of barrels and biobags and cartons and CA bottles, but there was nothing for Medicant IbSada. There was no excuse to visit the clinic behind Chief Director IbSada’s house. Jin-Li could only wait, and worry.