Dawnwind 1: Last Man Standing (32 page)

“You think?” said Olu.
 
“Was it your fifth plate?
 
Or the sixth?
 
Maybe it was that fourth glass of wine?”

“Actually, I think it was all the dancing.”

Olu chuckled and playfully slapped his arm.
 

Ito fiddled with her cup.
 
She glanced at John.
 
“You wanted to know about the devotees.”

“Yes,” said John.

Olu’s expression became somber.
 
“How familiar are you with Junian history?”

John shrugged.
 
 
“I know the highlights.
 
I had to study it for my citizenship test.”

“What do you recall about the Monotheist War?”

John frowned.
 
“It happened about two thousand years ago.
 
Right?”

Olu nodded.
 
“It was one of the few times in our history when Junians turned to violence to resolve a conflict.”

“Levaz’s
History
said that the bodies were piled three-deep outside the walls of Pi-Hu Dov,” added Ito.
 
Seeing the amused expressions on Olu and Vesu’s face, the girl hunched her shoulders.
 
“What? I did a course in Ancient History when I was younger.”

“The monotheists were zealots,” explained Olu.
 
“Even when they were pushed back to Pi-Hu Dov, their holy city, they remained steadfast in the belief that their One God would save them.
 
And, for a while, it seemed that they might have been right.”

Ito nodded.
 
“The pantheist armies pushed the monotheistic forces back to Pi-Hu Dov, but then they faltered.
 
They couldn’t take the city and the monotheists weren’t prepared to surrender.
 
Night and day, the monotheist clerics walked along the city walls, singing prayers in praise of their deity.”
 

“They reached a stalemate,” said Olu.
 
 
“The pantheists’ fervor dimmed, while the monotheists’ faith remained rock hard.
 
Frontline fighters began to question whether the monotheists could be right.
 
Doubts began to creep through the pantheist armies.”

“It was the mass dynamic,” chimed in Vesu.
 
“You’re familiar with it?”

“I have some experience with it,” said John.

“The monotheist ArchCleric was incredibly charismatic,” said Ito.
 
“They say he could sway thousands with a single speech.”

“He was the lynchpin holding the monotheists together,” said Olu.
 
“The pantheists knew that if they could remove him, they could win the war.
 
But all their efforts failed, until the Devotees of Oba took action.”

“They sent in assassins,” said Ito.
 
“Their bodies were altered to produce sex pheromones that made them almost irresistible.
 
The devotees infiltrated the monotheist hierarchy and seduced their way to the ArchCleric himself.”

“And they killed him,” said Olu.

“Is that why people are so uncomfortable around the devotees?” asked John.
 
“Because of something that happened centuries ago?”

“That’s . . . part of it,” admitted Vesu.

“What’s the other part?”

“It’s how the devotees killed the ArchCleric,” said Ito.
 
“Their bodies don’t just produce sex pheromones.”
 
She looked down, suddenly embarrassed, the tips of her fingers blood red.

John glanced at the others.
 
“I’m not sure I understand.”

“They produce a
 
neurotoxin that’s released during physical intimacy,” explained Vesu, looking down into his teacup.

“Oh.”
 
John blinked, and then frowned.
 
“That’s why people are so uncomfortable around the devotees?
 
Because they can kill someone by having sex with them?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Olu.
 
“Because of what their ancestors did, what the devotees can still do, most people consider them tainted.
 
Spiritually and physically.”

“I don’t understand,” said John.
 
“If this is a genetic trait, can’t the Health Authority filter it out?
 
I mean, they do the same thing with birth defects.
 
Right?”

“It’s a low probability trait,” explained Vesu.
 
“Less than three percent of the population ever expresses it.”

John did the math in his head and frowned.
 
“That’s still over a billion people!”

“It’s a complicated issue,” admitted Vesu.
 
“With ethical, political and spiritual dimensions.
 
I think there’s even an Assembly Sub-Committee devoted to studying it.”

“So why has Lewij gone into this cloistered community now?
 
What’s changed?”

Vesu hesitated, glanced at Olu.
 
“It’s . . . well. . . .
 
Although Lewij tested positive for the trait, it didn’t fully express itself until recently.
 
Her pheromonal secretions. . . .”

“It wasn’t safe for her to remain in the outside world,” said Olu, plainly.
 
“For her or the people around her.”

“All devotees eventually join a cloister,” said Ito.
 
“Instructor Lewij has just done it later in life than most.”

“I traveled with some devotees,” said John.
 
“A pair of girls, younger than you, Ito.
 
They were part of a group going to establish a cloistered community on a Colony world.
 
I always wondered why people were so distant to them.”

“And now you know,” said Olu.
 

“Given their history,” said Vesu, “most people don’t talk about the devotees.
 
Discussing them isn’t considered polite.”

“Well,” said John, “I’d still like to see Lewij.”

Olu frowned.
 
“If she’s cloistered. . . .”

“I’m an alien,” said John.
 
“Do you really think these pheromones will have an effect on me?”

“Even if you’re immune to their influence,” said Olu, “they still may not let you speak to Lewij, John.
 
They might consider it cruel.
 
You could be viewed as a reminder of the world she’s had to leave behind.”

“Maybe,” said John.
 
“But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

* * * * *

 
Polumet Province was surprisingly mountainous terrain, dry and harsh, its scrub forests peppered with small, brackish lakes.
 
Communities dotted the land, sprouting like fungi along the lakes, at the bases of the mountains.
 

The devotees’ community was called The House of St. Neful.
 
It was located far away from the province’s normal travel routes, in a shallow valley surrounded by mountains.
 

The cloister was as much statue as shelter.
 
It resembled a thickset woman, on her knees, leaning forward with her arms extended in supplication.
 
The entire structure was made of smooth, blue rock.
 
Within the space of the house-woman’s arms was a large courtyard.
 

John studied the House as the transport dropped toward the courtyard.
 
“Do all of your cloisters look like this?”

His escort, a wizened old man called Sigus, shook his head.
 
“Each is different.
 
But the image of our goddess tends to be prominent in all of our Houses.”

“It’s very impressive.”

Sigus grunted, shifted in his seat.
 
“The first House of St. Neful was built almost eleven hundred years ago, in this same spot.
 
Ours is the fifth iteration of that original House.”

“What happened to the others?”

“Time,” said Sigus.
 
“Wear and tear.
 
Our iteration has stood for a little over six hundred years.”
 

The transport landed, and Sigus clambered to his feet, gestured John to follow him.
 
Outside the transport, the air was cool and sweet.
 
A trio of figures approached, a small elderly woman in the lead, accompanied by two younger attendants.

“Proctor Emis,” murmured Sigus.
 
“The leader of our House.”

The proctor had reached the transport.
 
She welcomed Sigus, warmly, the two devotees brushing hands.
 
Turning to John, the old woman merely inclined her head.
 
Sigus had warned him that cloistered devotees would not touch outsiders.
 
John returned the gesture, taking the opportunity to study the proctor.

She was, he judged, younger than Sigus, perhaps in her seventh or eighth decade.
 
Her white hair was thick and short, falling to brush the collar of her gray robe.
 
Curiously, the proctor was the only person present wearing eyepaint.
 
A silver ribbon was painted across the old woman’s eyes, bisected by another strip running from her forehead to the tip of her nose.
 
John had never seen any other Junian wear eyepaint in that style.
 
He wondered if it was a religious thing?

“Welcome to the House of St. Neful, Mr. Epcott.”

“Thank you for allowing me to come, Proctor Emis.”

She nodded, turned.
 
“Walk with me.”

The party drifted across the courtyard.
 
Ahead of them, the face of the stone woman looked down, seeming to watch their progress.
 
John saw that the eyes seemed to function as windows.
 
Her stone arms rested on colonnades, their tiled paths kept in perpetual shadow.
 
 
From this perspective, the House of Neful appeared much larger than it had from the air.

“How many people live here?”

“The number fluctuates,” said Proctor Emis.
 
“At the moment, we have a community of over five hundred in residence.”

“Is that all? Your cloister is so large, I would have expected more.”

The proctor glanced at him, amused.
 
“The House is only the hub of our community, Mister Epcott.
 
There are over six thousand devotees in Polumet.”

“The highest concentration of our kind on the planet,” added Sigus, from the rear.

Proctor Emis nodded.
 
“Just so.
 
There are eleven other cloisters scattered across the province.
 
Service houses, retirement communities, crèches. . . .”

“Crèches?” said John.

The old woman nodded.
 
“Yes.
 
We have children among our number, Mr. Epcott. You didn’t know?”

“No, I had no idea.”

She studied him.
 
“Does it offend you?”

He returned her frank gaze.
 
“Should it?”

“It’s easy to forget that you’re an alien, Mr. Epcott,” said the proctor.
 
“Many Junians are disgusted by the thought of children among us.”

John frowned.
 
“Do they express the traits?”

“No.
 
None of us flower until after our lifechange.”

“Then how do you know these children have the traits?
 
I was told scanning for them isn’t part of the usual prenatal screenings.”

“It isn’t,” explained the proctor.
 
“But some people, usually those with other devotees in the family, request special scans.
 
Those children who test positive are sent to our order when they are born, to be raised among their own kind.”