Venus of Dreams (57 page)

The curving corridor she entered was bare of any ornament except for the calligraphic lettering embossed on each door. She slowed her steps and walked on through the hallway until she came to Amir's room. The Arabic letters on his door blurred as she stared at them; she wiped at her eyes, then put her hand against the lock.

The door slid open, showing her his familiar room. Amir was sitting on a red cushion. She reminded herself that this was a man who loved her, whom she had come to love in her own way. His dark eyes stared at her blankly, then focused on her face.

She moved soundlessly across the carpet and sat down on one of the cushions nearest him. "I was going to wait for you," she said at last. "I thought you might be at a meeting."

"I am at the meeting," he said tonelessly as he tapped the gem on his forehead. "The others can proceed without me for now, or perhaps they'll want to hear what you have to say through me." He brushed a sleeve of his long white robe, then folded his arms. "What have you come to tell me, Iris?"

She thought of the others who might be watching and listening to her. She searched Amir's face, looking for some sign of the warmth and affection she had so often seen there. His eyes were glassy, his face stern.

"My heart is heavy," she murmured in Arabic, hoping that the more expressive language they had used in their private moments would elicit his sympathy. "My son has thrust a sword through me. I am wounded, Amir, and filled with anger at the son who has deceived me. I curse him for what he has done. May he, if God wills it, find only misery in his new life, and be haunted by the memories of those he left behind. May he, God willing, feel the stabbing of the blade I feel inside me at this moment."

"Have you come to denounce him, then?" Amir asked. Her chest constricted; he was speaking in Anglaic. "Are you going to say you knew nothing of this?"

"Of course I knew nothing. I called him my son, but he is not my son. He severed his bond with me. He was lost to me even before he went to the Habbers. You can't believe that I had anything to do with this." She realized that Benzi had tried to protect her and Chen in the way he had escaped, but she pushed the thought away.

"Can I really be sure of that? You didn't fight him when he severed that tie. It could have been part of his plan, a device to protect you and his father. You might have been sure that, in your present position, under my protection, you would be safe enough."

Amir thought that she had used him. She leaned forward. "Aren't there ways to know if I'm speaking the truth? There are the bands used to question those suspected of crimes. If you used such a band with me, you'd know."

He looked away. "You wouldn't want to go through that. Sometimes such questioning leaves mental scars, makes some people useless for anything except the most undemanding work. Would you risk that to clear your name? What would you have left? You might become useless to the Project then."

"I would take the chance," she said, no longer so sure.

"No one here would care to authorize such a thing. Those bands may be useful enough when one is dealing with a simple, brutal mind, but they often fail with more subtle ones. Anyway, if we questioned you, the very fact that it was considered necessary would be enough to cast suspicion on you. Surely you see that."

She relaxed a little. Did his statement mean that she was safe from doubt? She stared at the geometric pattern of the red and gold carpet, then lifted her eyes to his. He was looking at her the way a falcon might gaze at his prey; he had looked at her the same way when she had first met him, when she hadn't known if she was going to be praised or punished. She thought: He already knows what's going to happen to me.

"Amir, I am sorry," she said. "This Project was what I hoped to be part of for almost all of my life. I wanted my child to be one of the first settlers—I wanted my line to be part of that new world's history. This doesn't have to change my dream. I must put it behind me and look to the future. I'm young. There can be other children." She waited, wishing he would put his arms around her and speak of the hopes they had discussed.

"You dare to speak of that now?" His tone was bitter. She had miscalculated, forgotten that others were listening to them; Amir would not want them reminded of how close he was to her.

"What a day this was to have been," he continued. "We witnessed the greatest event in Venus's history so far—our minds were so full of that triumph that we were oblivious to everything else. But your son and the other wretches who were his accomplices thought nothing of that—it was only a distraction to be used to cloak their escape." He bowed his head. "It was I who told my colleagues that the pilot Michael Anastas and your bondmate Liang Chen should be rewarded instead of punished for their reckless rescue of you and your son. It was I who said that the Project would be better served if we honored the courage and initiative you all showed. You and your son were facing death on the surface below. Do you expect me to believe that, in all the time you were trapped there, he wouldn't have brought himself to reveal his plans to you, to unburden himself before his death?"

"But he didn't," she cried. "He said nothing of that." Yet she recalled the questions he had tried to ask her, and that he had been about to speak of some matter before Te-yu had cautioned him to be silent. She thought of the times Benzi had come to her with his questions and the times she had dismissed them or had argued with him instead of listening. The Project had always been her son's rival; maybe she had brought him to hate it.

The signs had always been there—the screen in his room showing a starscape, his talk of the Habbers and their ways. She had simply refused to see those signs.

"Perhaps your son spoke," Amir said. "Then, when rescue unexpectedly came, you kept his secret. Perhaps you shared what you knew with your bondmate during your little talks, and assured him that you would both be safe because of my feeling for you. You thought of your son, and forgot your duty to the Project. You hid your thoughts from me."

"It isn't true!"

"No wonder Michael was so quick to aid you. Two of his accomplices were in danger. He took a risk to save them because he knew that this would strengthen the bonds he had with his other accomplices. His bravery would win their complete loyalty, and your son's gratitude, and there would be even less risk of a betrayal before they carried out their escape."

"Amir!"

"Even you would not speak. I'm an Administrator. I spoke up for you, and became your patron. Your son has wounded me too."

"How I curse my son," she burst out. "He's shamed me and called my dream worthless with his deed. I wish he could be brought back here, for I would be the first to call for his punishment. I would stand in front of him and denounce him for choosing the sterile way of the Habs over our way."

"How desperate you are, Iris. You must be pleased to realize that, with other Linkers now listening to your words, your denunciation is public. I see why you're here, it's to plead for yourself and deflect suspicion. What shall we do—send you back to Earth? That might be the right decision, since it would serve as an example to others who might be misled."

She swayed; Amir's bearded face blurred.

"But that might cause hard feelings," he went on. "Some would say that you were bearing what should have been your son's punishment, and think we were unfeeling and insensitive. The Project cannot move forward if we are not trusted." His voice seemed distant.

"Amir, you know me. You must see that I'm not to blame."

"Oh, some will indeed hold you blameless, but they may then wonder how a parent could have turned her child so much against her, since your son seemed so unconcerned with the consequences his action would bring to you. Some will think you knew, and ran to me only out of desperation, thinking that I would shield you. And some who might believe you innocent of any previous knowledge of your son's deed will wonder why you were so quick to come here to denounce him."

"Anyone would!" she cried.

"No, Iris. Another would have retreated into solitude and wept for her child, would still have loved him in spite of everything. She might even have prayed for his happiness. That's what an innocent person would do, for she would know that she had nothing to fear from us. That is what someone who loved her child would do, for she would have wished him well in spite of his traitorous mistake. You are now a woman who, whether guilty or innocent, has failed her son, nurtured a traitor, and shamed the Project. You were lost as soon as you entered this room."

Her hand struck, missing his face and hitting his shoulder; he grabbed her wrist. "I raised you up," he shouted. "I spoke up for you, I convinced my colleagues that you had gifts we could use. I argued that we should save your life when your airship was first in danger, and when I came to know you, I even—" He thrust her arm away. "Others will remember that I spoke up for you then."

She had not stopped to think of how shaky his own position would be now. "Amir," she said helplessly.

"You came here. You pleaded for yourself. You didn't once show any concern for me."

"Have you thought of me? You've let me sit here without telling me what you'll do. What will happen to me?"

His eyes narrowed. "Why, nothing will happen to you. You've proclaimed your innocence, haven't you? You've even offered to undergo questioning under an interrogator's band, something a guilty person would never do. You'll simply go on, Iris. You can remain our liaison with the people from the Institute, but when they see how powerless you now are to intercede for them, they'll soon ask the Administrative Committee to appoint someone else in your place. But that must be left up to them, don't you think?"

"I won't be so helpless. I'll find ways to do my job."

"But you won't. The Administrators won't listen to you, and your Institute colleagues will worry that one so ignorant of her own son's feelings can hardly be aware enough of their needs to be of service."

Iris stood up slowly on shaky legs and wavered as she tried to keep her balance. "Then I won't wait for that. I'll resign at the next meeting."

"Then we'll wish you well. We might even give you a bonus for the services you've already performed for the Committee. We could give you a little time off, if you like."

Her knees shook. She was suddenly thinking of Anthony, the student at the Institute who had done no more than ask too many touchy questions. She was now sure that this was indeed all that Anthony had done, that he had not been spying on them or trying to ferret out those with dangerous views. But Anthony hadn't been punished for his skepticism, only rewarded. The school had let the other students punish him instead, had aroused their suspicions about him by giving him privileges until the students themselves had made his life there unhappy and impossible.

Anthony had come to her a few days before he left the Institute; he had needed a friend then. She could now recall her words to him: Don't make trouble for me, it's your problem, why do you want to drag me into this, it's your own fault, I have to think of my work.

There would always be doubt about her in some circles, and the forbearance and kindness of the Island Administrators would confuse the issue still more. Why punish her outright and risk provoking sympathy for her plight when suspicions could be fueled? The Administrators would see her punished in time, and others would profit by the example, and would be even quicker to denounce any suspicious or questionable activities on the part of their friends.

You think I'll leave the Project, she thought. You won't drive me away so easily.

"You may even have access to the Linker training I offered before," Amir went on. "Of course, you'll never become a Linker. We couldn't have that now. With a son among the Habbers, your loyalties could become divided."

She turned around slowly and left the room. When the door had closed behind her, she struck it with her fist, then wandered on down the corridor, not caring who saw her tears.

Twenty-Six

Pavel Gvishiani closed his Link. He felt a bit of sympathy for Amir Azad. The young Linker had been just heartless enough in his dealings with the woman Iris Angharads to convince Pavel that Amir still cared for her. An impassive man, one who was indifferent to her, would have dealt with her more quickly instead of exacting every last bit of agony from her.

Pavel pushed the thought aside. He could not afford sympathy for Amir now. The young man would have to pay for his lapse in judgment. Iris Angharads was clearly innocent, but that made no difference; Amir, by drawing so close to one whose son had shamed them all, would be under some suspicion himself. There was no need to be harsh. He could suspend Amir from the Committee for a while, and perhaps all of this would chasten the man. Amir, with his efforts to win the personal loyalty of the Institute graduates through Iris, had been showing a few too many signs of higher ambitions.

He would see how the pair responded to their new positions. If they were weak of spirit, the suspicions of others might drive them from the Project. If they were stronger, they would stay and try to overcome suspicion by proving their devotion to the Project. He would not rid himself of those who might be useful.

What Amir and the woman probably didn't realize was how shaky Pavel's own position was. Pavel had been dwelling on this unfortunate incident, turning it this way and that, trying to see if some invisible hand had brought this business about. Somehow, he doubted that, yet the pilots had been plotting for months, and they had done so without the Administrators hearing even a whisper of their plans. That meant that the means his colleagues used to keep themselves informed were deficient, that Pavel himself was losing control. Something would have to be done about that.

The Linker rubbed his chin. The Project Council members on Anwara, and the Mukhtars on Earth, would be wondering about his own lapses. Other Administrators might be waiting to take advantage of Pavel's difficulties now, might try to use the incident for their own ends.