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become a particular thing. Monstrous? Only if you held to your own precious
myths. Dosadi might be the greatest cleansing force the ConSentiency had ever
experienced.
The whole prospect of the ConSentiency had begun to sicken him. And Aritch's
Gowachin. Gowachin Law? Stuff Gowachin Law!
It was quiet in Jedrik's room. Painfully quiet.
He knew that out on the streets of Chu there was violent warfare between
Gowachin and Human. Wounded had been rushed through the training courtyard
while he was there with Jedrik. Afterward, she'd taken him to her command
post, a room across the hall and above Pcharky's cage. He'd stood nearby,
watched her performance as though she were a star on an entertainment circuit
and he a member of the audience. It was fascinating. Broey will do this.
Broey will give that order. And each time, the reports revealed how precisely
she had anticipated her opponent.
Occasionally, she mentioned Gar or Tria. He was able to detect the subtle
difference in her treatment of that pair.
On their second night together, Jedrik had aroused his sexual appetites
softly, deftly. She had treated him to a murmurous compliance, and afterward
had leaned over him on an elbow to smile coldly.
"You see, McKie: I can play your game."
Shockingly, this had opened an area of awareness within him which he'd not
even suspected. It was as though she'd held up his entire previous life to
devastating observation.
And he was the observer!
Other beings formed lasting relationships and operated from a secure emotional
base. But he was a product of BuSab, the Gowachin . . . and much that had
gone before. It had become increasingly obvious to him why the Gowachin had
chosen him to groom for this particular role.
I was damaged and they could rebuild me the way they wanted!
Well, the Gowachin could still be surprised by what they produced. Dosadi was
evidence of that. They might not even suspect what they'd actually produced
in McKie.
He was bitter with a bitterness he knew must've been fermenting in him for
years. The loneliness of his own life with its central dedication to BuSab
had been brought to a head by the loneliness of this imprisoned planet. An
incredible jumble of emotions had sorted themselves out, and he felt new
purpose burning within him.
Power!
Ahhhh . . . that was how it felt to be Dosadi!
He'd turned away from Jedrik's cold smile, pulled the blankets around his
shoulder.
Thank you, loving teacher.
Such thoughts roamed through his mind as he stood alone in the room the
following day and began to make the bed. After her revelation, Jedrik had
resumed her interest in his memories, napping only to awaken him with more
questions.
In spite of his sour outlook, he still felt it his duty to examine her
behavior in every possible light his imagination could produce. Nothing about
Dosadi was too absurd. He had to build a better picture of this society and
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its driving forces.
Before returning to Jedrik's room, he'd made another tour of the training
courtyard with her. There'd been more new weapons adapted from his kit, and
he'd realized the courtyard was merely Jedrik's testing ground, that there
must be many more training areas for her followers.
McKie had not yet revealed to her that Aritch's people might terminate
Dosadi's people with violence. Shed been centering on this at dawn. Even
while they shared the tiny toilet cubicle off her room she'd pressed for
answers.
For a time, McKie had diverted her with questions about Pcharky. What were
the powers in that cage? At one point, he'd startled her.
"Pcharky knows something valuable he hopes to trade for his freedom."
"How'd you know?"
"It's obvious. I'll tell you something else: he came here of his own free
will . . . for whatever purpose."
"You learn quickly, McKie."
She was laughing at him and he glared at her.
"All right! I don't know that purpose, but it may be that you only think you
know it."
For the briefest flicker, something dangerous glared from her eyes, then:
"Your jumpdoors have brought us many fools, but Pcharky is one of the biggest
fools. I know why he came. There've been many like him. Now . . . there is
only one. Broey, for all of his power, cannot search out his own Pcharky.
And Keila Jedrik is the one who frustrates him."
Too late, she realized that McKie had goaded her into this performance. How
had he done that? He'd almost found out too much too soon. It was dangerous
to underestimate this naive intruder from beyond the God Wall.
Once more, she'd begun probing for things he had not yet revealed. Time had
protected him. Aides had come urging an early inspection of the new weapons.
They were needed.
Afterward, they'd gone to the command post and then to breakfast in a Warren
dining room. All through breakfast, he'd plied her with questions about the
fighting. How extensive was it? Could he see some of the prisoners? Were
they using the weapons built from the patterns in his kit? Were they winning?
Sometimes she merely ignored his questions. Most of her answers were short,
distracted. Yes. No. No. Yes. McKie realized she was answering in
monosyllables to fend him off. He was a distraction. Something important had
been communicated to her and he'd missed it. Although this angered him, he
tried to mask the emotion, striving to penetrate her wall of concern. Oddly,
she responded when he changed his line of questioning to the parents of the
three children and the conversation there.
"You started to designate a particular place: 'Beyond the . . .' Beyond
what?"
"It's something Gar, thinks I don't know. He thinks only his death fanatics
have that kind of rapport with the Rim."
He stared at her, caught by a sudden thought. By now, he knew much about Gar
and Tria. She answered his questions about them with candor, often using him
openly to clarify her own thoughts. But -- death fanatics?
"Are these fanatics homosexual?"
She pounced.
"How'd you know?"
"A guess."
"What difference would it make?"
"Are they?"
"Yes."
McKie shuddered.
She was peremptory.
"Explain!"
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"When Humans for any reason go terminal where survival of their species is
concerned, it's relatively easy to push them the short step further into
wanting to die."
"You speak from historical evidence?"
"Yes."
"Example."
"With rare exceptions, primitive Humans of the tribal eras reserved their [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]