Four major continents (GYNNOR, BREPHOR, SAKKOR, ASKALOR)

  Two large islands (LOPPEN, FOSPOR) Two major island chains (SULING LALLER, FATTAHX-EDRA)

  Bodies of water:

  oceans: NORSTOR FISTAVEY, SUSTOR FISTAVEY, ISTENGER, VATACHAVAR, RABAHAR

  other: Seas of JUVELHAV, PAPUGAY

  Gulfs of MACADAO, PEFAXO

  Straits of TAVAKAY Lake SERZHAIR

  Indigenes—two intelligent species with separate evolutionary histories

  ORPETZH: Warm-blooded reptiloids, tri-sexual (female, male, neuter; though the neuter does not participate in sexual transactions, conception is possible only when it is present; there is some indication that even copulation does not occur in the absence of a neuter), oviparous (only marginally so; the infant is born inside a translucent flexible shell, continues to grow and develop for another thirty-five to forty days before hatching), average adult height: female 160 cm, male 150 cm, neuter 120 cm, average life span 50 years standard (approx. 31 years-local)

  GALAPHORZE: Mammalian, bi-sexual, viviparous, average adult height: female 155 cm, male 175 cm, average life span roughly equal to that of the ORPETZH

  Moons:

  MINHA: mean distance 154,000 km, mean diameter 1,775 km. MINACHRON: phase cycle full moon to full moon, 12.04 days.

  ARAXOS: mean distance 244,020 km, mean diameter 3, 462 km. ARACHRON: phase cycle, full moon to full moon, 26 days. A JUBILEE is called whenever an ARACHRON ends with the Vrithian year, a minor festival occurs each time MINHA and ARAXOS are full at the same time.

  Vrithian: The Continents Gynnor And Brephor

  Vrithian: The Continents Sakkor And Askalor

  Vrithian

  action on the periphery [1]

  The Song of the Sorrows of Agishag

  sung to the children of Agishag as they are initiated into

  the rights and responsibilities of adulthood

  the drums whisper

  the hollow is dark

  the torches wait for fire

  listen

  (listen, listen, listen: the word goes round and round the drumroom, old ones hissing, hissing with anger and fear in the sibilant hot darkness, the manai listening, the tokon listening, the naidisa listening,

  all listening with fear and trembling)

  once the Conoch’hi went where they willed

  once the world was where the wind went and only that

  touch the patterns of the line-Mother’s life weave

  feel the wind in the life-Mother’s weave

  (the mana Amaiki touches the narrow strip of her own life weave, the knots and spaces that record

  the events she thinks worthy of memory and telling, the sun in her eyes when she burst the shell, the first bean sprout she coaxed from seed, little things and perhaps too many of them, her mother calls her hoarder, but her fingers slide over the story of her short life and bring her pleasure)

  feel the pattern change

  Hyaroll came

  the Undying came and took the winds from the Conoch’hi

  he set his hard hand on the Mother-of-All

  the earth that feeds and sustains us

  like a wild tedo he tamed her

  like a herd of tedo he tamed us

  the old he laid aside and would have slain

  the life-Mother of the Conoch’hi rose up to him

  the life-Mother sang him the worth of the old, the need of the young

  he stayed his hand

  for two hands of days and two more the old sang to him

  by their song they bought their lives from him

  but the sick and the crippled and the weak he took

  the sick and the crippled he tormented, he changed

  he sent them back to the Conoch’hi

  strangeness came to the Conoch’hi

  our ways were changed

  our children were changed

  we looked at them and could not understand them

  through them came the dreams, the throwing of lots

  through them came the ways of far-seeing, the knowing of tomorrow and tomorrow

  three decrees he gave to the life-Mother of the Conoch’hi

  to the Hundred Families he gave these decrees

  I will give you peace, I will protect you from the zuilders and lallers

  the shiburri, the shevorate, the stovasha and all others

  I will heal the sick and send the rain and teach you what you need to know

  in return you will do these things for me

  five manai and five tokon and five naidisa you will send to my dome

  to do my will and serve me in all ways

  for five years they will serve within the dome

  at the end of the five years they will return

  at the end of the five years you shall choose five and five and five again

  thus he decreed and thus it was done

  this was the second decree

  the Conoch’hi will cease to follow wind and water

  the Conoch’hi will cease to follow the tedo herds

  the Conoch’hi will live in villages and learn the heart of bulb

  and seed

  of stone wood and iron

  this was the third decree

  the Conoch’hi will limit their numbers

  for every six will seven only be born

  any over that will be taken

  any over will be sent away

  then Hyaroll said

  the Undying he said

  live on the land as I have told you

  live on the land within the borders I have set for you

  live in peace and learn what you must

  thus he decreed and thus it was done

  Conoch’hi heard

  Conoch’hi feared

  Conoch’hi sorrowed for the lost ways

  Conoch’hi obeyed

  weep for your children, oh line-Mothers, life-Fathers, your children are gone

  you have sent away your naidisa that the numbers might be kept

  you have sent away your daughters that the numbers might be kept

  you have sent your sons away that the numbers might be kept

  weep, Conoch’hi, your children are taken

  rejoice, Conoch’hi, they are taken not lost

  of our flesh and our bone far-speakers were made

  out of pity and play the undying he made them

  the far-speakers give the taken back to us

  none is lost

  new families and old

  none is lost

  save only one line

  hear the song of the lost

  (the singer’s voice stills with a dying hiss, the drums keep

  beating; Amaiki trembles and strains to listen. To this point all has been a repetition of things commonly known. What is coming is one of the secret things that adults know but never tell children. Amaiki straightens her back, touches her life weave another time, knowing she will not knot this song

  into it. This is too secret, too sacred, altogether too terrible)

  these are the names of the lost

  Children of Agishag must not bear these names

  forget nothing

  say nothing

  hear the ancient anguish of the Conoch’hi

  hear the sorrow of the Conoch’hi

  hear the names of the lost

  Tahere oc cuji

  Oojitay oc cuji ,

  Marai oc cuji

  Mriize oc cuji

  Yonikti oc cuji

  Je-mawi oc cuji

  line cuji is no more

  line cuji cast off that name

  weep for cuji who were, hayal who are

  praise hayal who cast off their cions and their name

  praise hayal and remember what they’ve seen

  these are the names of the children of the lost

  you will not name a child from these names

  forget nothing

  say nothing

  Kurim, Kiraz, Shakati

  Fonnim, Fanasi, Fukati

  Misi, Miji, Achavai

  Nunnin, Chacai, Alvanai

  Shijun, Shaki, Nugavai

  Hyaroll cast fire at them

  you have seen the black ash of them

  loom and lot, Hyaroll burned them

  hatchling and dartling, Hyaroll burned them

  the air stank of them

  the earth stank of them

  the stench of their burning lay on us for two hands of days

  six days and six the smell lay on us

  this is how that came to be

  six and six they left cuji,

  adults and children they left secretly

  they went out from cuji

  Dum Cuji, the village of their line

  in the night they went out

  into the hills they went where the air smelled free to them

  following a tedo herd they went

  the summer passed.

  they danced the tedo dance and waited the winter through

  Hyaroll said nothing did nothing

  nine hatched with the coming of the sun, six they had already

  they danced the birth-blessing

  then they waited

  Hyaroll said nothing did nothing

  the summer passed

  they followed the herd south through the hills,

  north through the hills

  they hunted and danced and mocked the not-free

  the Conoch’hi waited and watched

  desire and hope and fear sang in them

  Conoch’hi not-free watched the free and hoped

  the summer passed and with the cold of winter

  came the voice of Hyaroll

  cull your numbers said the voice of Hyaroll

  cull your numbers and send the excess to me

  the Conoch’hi waited

  the Six did not listen

  the free would not send their children away

  Hyaroll spoke again

  cull your numbers

  cease following the herds

  go back to your village and live as I bade you

  the free laughed and danced and would not hear the voice

  the Conoch’hi waited

  three days they waited

  five days they waited

  on the sixth day, the day of the thumb, the day of power and blessing

  on the sixth day Hyaroll spoke a last time

  so be it, Hyaroll said

  fire came from air and clothed the free

  they burned, their children burned, manai and naidisa and tokon all burned

  the hatchlings cried out and ran from the tents

  fire leaped around them and they burned

  when the Conoch’hi went to the hills

  they found black ash and that only

  the tedo had fled

  the tents were ash

  the free were ash

  we showed you the black circle, Manai, Tokon, Naidisa

  we showed you the circle of black rocks

  no newa makes her nest there

  no grass grows there

  the water is bitter and no beasts come to drink

  you have tasted the bitter water, the tears of the Conoch’hi

  when you were children you were Conoshim’hi

  the beloved of the earth

  but you have tasted the bitter water, the tears of the earth

  from this night you are children of sorrow

  from this night you are Conoch’hi

  oh weh, weh, the bitter water

  oh weh, weh, the sorrow.

  (Amaiki mana-that-was caresses the strip of her own life weave, knots the sorrow knot into the cords, sings weh-weh with the others, but there is no sorrow in her heart, only a savoring of knots and spaces to come, the pattern of her life-to-be)

  Agishag on Gynnor

  Vrithian

  second bell

  Hyaroll scowled at the woman standing before him. She claimed to be one of his daughters when she came yelling to be let in. Might well be, nothing against it. Reminded him of her mother, haranguing him like that. A stupid acid-tongued bitch with a clever body and little else to recommend her. Eybolli, her name was. This one whose name he didn’t know and didn’t care to know seemed a faded copy of her, tongue and all. If he’d had any part in making her he could see no evidence of it. At least she was running down a little.

  “We don’t want her here?”

  “We?”

  “The true Vrya on Vrithian.” “Ah. What of the true Vrya off Vrithian?”

  “They aren’t here.”

  “A profound insight.”

  She looked startled, then offended. It was faintly and briefly amusing to watch her struggle with her spleen, but he was growing bored and beginning to wonder what senile whim had made him let her into the dome. She forced a smile, put her hand on his arm. He thought of slapping her silly, pitching her into her flier and sending her off, but couldn’t raise the energy. “Listen,” she cooed at him, “it isn’t so much of a thing, all you have to do is change your vote. The others will follow your lead.”

  “Oh?”

  “So, maybe not Loguisse, but she doesn’t count if the rest agree.” She patted his arm. “Come on, Daddy dear, do it, hmmm? You don’ even know what she’s like. All you have to do is say nay instead of aye.”

  “Go away.”

  “What?”

  “Go away.”

  “I won’t. I won’t go until I have your answer.”

  “You got it, same as it was the first time. The Tetrad will recognize Shareem’s daughter as Vryhh.” He shook off her hand, spoke to the android standing a pace behind him. “Megathen, get her away from me.”

  She glared into the abstract planes of the android’s face. “Don’t touch me. I’ll go.” She switched the glare to Hyaroll. “That dirty half-breed won’t last a year. You wait. You’ll see.”

  Vrithian

  players moving on an oblique file [1]

  Willow sat cross-legged, pricking blue lines into the skin of her thigh. Her head down, she pretended indifference to what was happening around her, but she was listening intently to Hyaroll and the female Vryhh.

  He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his feet apart, planted like a boulder in the grass of the small lawn. Old Stone Vryhh, he won’t listen, you wasting you breath, woman. Old Stone Vryhh, stealer of life to fill the hollow in him. Go away, woman, leave him be. If that bitch stirred him up, chances are he’d dump his collection back in the stasis boxes before getting busy helping her or fighting her.

  For several hundred years Willow had taken her life in small discrete bites as Hyaroll rotated his vast collection of life forms, giving them conscious existence until he grew bored with them. A few of them were always waked together for their brief hours of life, but others in the group came and vanished as ephemerally as mayflies. It was hard, this making friends and losing them to Hyaroll’s whim; after the third waking she kept herself apart from most of them, spending her time with two beings who seemed linked to her, risking the hurt of losing them because she could not live without affection and touch; she would rather be dead, finally dead, dead with no hope of waking, than live like Hyaroll, unloving and unloved.

  “Half-breed! A caricature. Pitiful. You voted against it at first. Say something, Har. Why did you change your mind? No, I won’t believe you changed, you let her maul you into it.” She went on with her rant, giving him no chance to speak. “Mongrel bitch. Knows nothing of our ways. Why should we have to …” The bitter voice went on and on, laying epithet on epithet, all washing against the stone of Hyaroll’s indifference.

  Bodri and Sunchild. Friends. The only bridge Willow had across the little deaths of the stasis box.

  Bodri was grubbing about in the flower beds, singing his grumbling songs to the worms and bees and the good bugs, zapping the pests and parasites with stinging hairs that grew on several of his many fingers, trundling happily about the garden on his six short stubby legs. With his heavy high-domed carapace planted with vines and shrubs and flowering plants, feeding him sun-strength for the blood-strength they took from him, he looked like a many-times-enlarged beetle, but instead of mandibles and compound eyes, he had a leathery black face rather like that of a wise old sheep and luminous brown eyes that usually smiled with affectionate amusement at the world’s absurdities. His snout was shorter and blunter than that of a sheep, his lips and tongue more flexible, able to shape with ease the words he loved almost as much as his plants. Four tentacles branched from his front shoulders, each of these split into six delicate fingers of surprising strength—Willow blinked and stared the first time she saw him at his most determined weeding, plucking diseased shrubs bigger than he was from the stubborn earth. Antennae like fern fronds sprouted behind little round ears; they extended his senses of hearing, smell and touch far beyond anything his ears, nose or fingers could tell him. They were lightly rolled now, curled up on themselves to escape the scratching of the Vryhh woman’s shrill voice, but he was listening, Willow knew; he shared the anxiety growing in her.

  He’d been here longer man any of the other beings, at least the ones Willow had met and spoken with; he was one of the first life forms Hyaroll had collected. The last of his kind and he knew it. One day when he was in a mood of gentle melancholy, he told Willow his folk were dying out even before Hyaroll took him; the species had gone on too long unchanged while their world changed about them. She squatted beside him, rubbing the tough supple skin of a tentacle, saying nothing, letting him ramble on. Around the fifth awakening, some four hundred years after his taking, he thought about joining them, dying with his dying folk. Settling down in a corner of the garden and stopping. Not eating, not sleeping, gradually shutting down mind and body. But Hyaroll had learned too much about him and wasn’t ready to let him go; he wasn’t sure just what the Vryhh had done to him, his memory was spotty about those events, but his body was turned against him, would not obey him if that obedience might put it in danger. After a short while he grew content with the bits of life he had and seldom yearned for more.