Flandry shook head and clicked tongue. “Pity I won’t be paying his dishes much attention.” Underneath, he hurt for joy.
“You will. I know you, Dominic. And I will too.” She pirouetted. “This gown is lovely, isn’t it? Being a woman again—” The air sent him an insinuation of her perfume, while it lilted with violins.
“Then you feel recovered?”
“Yes.” She sobered. “I felt strength coming back, the strength to be glad, more and more these past few days.” A stride brought her to him. He had set the pitcher down. She took both his hands—the touch radiated through him—and said gravely: “Oh, I’ve not forgotten what happened, nor what may soon happen. But life is good. I want to celebrate its goodness … with you, who brought me home to it. I can never rightly thank you for that, Dominic.”
Nor can I rightly thank you for existing, Kossara. In spite of what she had let slip beneath the machine, she remained too mysterious for him to hazard kissing her. He took refuge: “Yes, you can. You can throw off your frontier steadfastness, foresight, common sense, devotion to principle, et cetera, and be frivolous. If you don’t know how to frivol, watch me. Later you may disapprove to your heart’s contempt, but tonight let’s cast caution to the winds, give three-point-one-four-one-six cheers, and speak disrespectfully of the Lesser Magellanic Cloud.”
Laughing, she released him. “Do you truly think we Dennitzans are so stiff? I’d call us quite jolly. Wait till you’ve been to a festival, or till I show you how to dance the luka.”
“Why not now? Work up an appetite.”
She shook her head. The tiara flung glitter which he noticed only peripherally because of her eyes. “No, I’d rip this dress, or else pop out of it like a cork. Our dances are all lively. Some people say they have to be.”
“The prospect of watching you demonstrate makes me admit there’s considerable to be said for an ice age.”
Actually, the summers where she lived were warm. Farther south, the Pustinya desert was often hot. A planet is too big, too many-sided for a single idea like “glacial era” to encompass.
Through Flandry passed the facts he had read, a parched obbligato to the vividness breathing before him. He would not truly know her till he knew the land, sea, sky which had given her to creation; but the data were a beginning.
Zoria was an F8 sun, a third again as luminous as Sol. Dennitza, slightly smaller than Terra, orbiting at barely more than Terran distance from the primary, should have been warmer—and had been for most of its existence. Loss of water through ultraviolet cracking had brought about that just half the surface was ocean-covered. This, an axial tilt of 32.5°, and an 18.8-hour rotation period led to extremes of weather and climate. Basically terrestroid, organisms adapted as they evolved in a diversity of environments.
That stood them in good stead when the catastrophe came. Less than a million years ago, a shower of giant meteoroids struck, or perhaps an asteroid shattered in the atmosphere. Whirled around the globe by enormous forces, the stones cratered dry land—devastated by impact, concussion, radiation, fire which followed—cast up dust which dimmed the sun for years afterward. Worse were the ocean strikes. The tsunamis they raised merely ruined every coast on the planet; life soon returned. But the thousands of cubic kilometers of water they evaporated became a cloud cover that endured for millennia. The energy balance shifted. Ice caps formed at the poles, grew, begot glaciers reaching halfway to the equator. Species, genera, families died; fossil beds left hints that among them had been a kind starting to make tools. New forms arose, winter-hardy in the temperate zones, desperately contentious in the tropics.
Then piece by piece the heavens cleared, sunlight grew brilliant again, glaciers melted back. The retreat of the ice that men found when they arrived, six hundred years later was a rout. The Great Spring brought woes of its own, storms, floods, massive extinctions and migrations to overthrow whole ecologies. In her own brief lifespan, Kossara had seen coastal towns abandoned before a rising sea.
Her birth country lay not far inland, though sheltered from northerly winds and easterly waters—the Kazan, Cauldron, huge astrobleme on the continent Rodna, a bowl filled with woods, farmlands, rivers, at its middle Lake Stoyan and the capital Zorkagrad. Her father was voivode of Dubina Dolyina province, named for the gorge that the Lyubisha River had cut through the ringwall on its way south from the dying snows. Thus she grew up child of a lord close to the people he guided, wilderness child who was often in town, knowing the stars both as other suns and as elven friends to lead her home after dark …
Flandry took her arm. “Come, my lady,” he said. “Be seated. This evening we shall not eat, we shall dine.”
{At last Eonan told Kossara about a person in the mountain community Salmenbrok who could give her some useful tidings. If she liked, he would take her and Trohdwyr on his gravsled—he didn’t trust her vehicle in these airs—and introduce them. More he would not yet say. They accepted eagerly.
Aloft he shifted course. “I bespoke one in Salmenbrok because I feared spies overhearing,” he explained. “The truth is, they are four in a cave whom we will visit. I have asked them about you, and they will have you as guests while you explore each other’s intents.”
She thought in unease that when the Diomedean went back, she and her companion would be left flightless, having brought no gravbelts along. The ychan got the same realization and growled. She plucked up the nerve to shush him and say, “Fine.”
The two men and two women she met were not her kind. Racial types, accents, manners, their very gaits belied it. Eonan talked to them and her passionately, as if they really were Dennitzans who had come to prepare the liberation of his folk. She bided in chill and tension, speaking little and nothing to contradict, until he departed. Then she turned on them and cried, “What’s this about?” Her hand rested on her sidearm. Trohdwyr bulked close, ready to attack with pistol, knife, tail, foot-claws if they threatened her.
Steve Johnson smiled, spread empty fingers, and replied, “Of course you’re puzzled. Please come inside where it’s warmer and we’ll tell you.” The rest behaved in equally friendly wise.
Their story was simple in outline. They too were Imperial subjects, from Esperance. That planet wasn’t immensely remote from here. True to its pacifistic tradition, it had stayed neutral during the succession fight, declaring it would pledge allegiance to whoever gave the Empire peace and law again. (Kossara nodded. She had heard of Esperance.) But this policy required a certain amount of armed might and a great deal of politicking and intriguing abroad, to prevent forcible recruitment by some or other pretender. The Esperancians thus got into the habit of taking a more active role than hitherto. Conditions remained sufficiently turbulent after Hans was crowned to keep the habit in tune.
When their Intelligence heard rumors of Ythrian attempts to foment revolution on Diomedes, their government was immediately concerned. Esperance was near the border of Empire and Domain. Agents were smuggled onto Diomedes to spy out the truth—discreetly, since God alone knew what the effect of premature revelations might be. Johnson’s party was such a band.
“Predecessors of ours learned Dennitzans were responsible,” he said. “Not Avalonian humans serving Ythri, but Dennitzan humans serving their war lord!”
“No!” Kossara interrupted, horrified. “That isn’t true! And he’s not a war lord!”
“It was what the natives claimed, Mademoiselle Vymezal,” the Asian-looking woman said mildly. “We decided to try posing as Dennitzans. Our project had learned enough about the underground—names of various members, for instance—that it seemed possible, granted the autochthons couldn’t spot the difference. Their reaction to us does indicate they … well, they have reason to believe Dennitzans are sparking their movement. We’ve been, ah, leading them on, collecting information without actually helping them develop paramilitary capabilities. When Eonan told us an important Dennitzan had arrived, openly but with hints she could be more than a straightforward scientist—naturally, we grew interested.”