Descended from Darkness: Vol II Read online

  Lena stumbled into the hall and leaned against it as the door snicked shut. She rested her back against the wall and slid down to hide her face in her hands. If she hadn't hesitated at the beginning. If she had spoken faster, the woman would have believed her.

  The urge for a child, never present before, consumed her. This time, it mattered.

  The Bride Replete

  Mary Robinette Kowal

  When the matriarch announced that she was sending the sixteen members of Pimi's small-family across the ocean to settle in Repp-Virja, Pimi thought it the end of her life. For though she had seen only seventeen full years, Pimi considered herself ready to fill her crop and begin the social rounds, seeking a mate. Her mother and the matriarch felt otherwise, though how they could expect her to find a mate in a strange, sideways land like the colonies was beyond Pimi's understanding.

  But Pimi packed her luggage and prepared to leave the warm underground rooms of their home. Before her small-family departed, the matriarch held a feast to fill everyone's crop for the voyage. The gas lights gave a gentle glow to the Deep Hall. Four stations with each of the food families, nuts, fruit, dairy, and grain, stood in corners of the room. Like the two fingers on a hand, the nuts and dairy stood at one end of the room; the fruit and grain at the other end represented a hand's two thumbs. Each a distinct group, but vital for grasping life.

  Assigned to the fruit dishes, Pimi ate until her crop distended the spotted green and amber skin of her belly like a bride's. She adjusted her tunic to show off her growing roundness.

  Pimi's older sister, Ero, hissed in amusement. "Are you readying yourself for a bridegroom?"

  Pimi's toes curled and gripped the ground in anger. "No." Perhaps her crop was not so like a bride's as she might wish; she still only rounded out to an adolescent's half-orb, not burgeoning into the sleek sphere for which she longed.

  "Good. My turn is next." Ero adjusted the scarf around her head to show off as much of her fine smooth scalp as propriety would allow. The flat bone of her ear plates barely peeked from the edges of the scarf. She had widened the blue spots above her eyes with paint, enhancing the grace of their pattern. The spots lightened as they continued down her face, past her perfectly round black eyes, until they almost vanished around her nose so that her chin and neck were smooth, pale and nearly white.

  Pimi's own amber and green complexion was the more common, a thing of which Ero never failed to remind her. That, combined with her mannishly small stature, made her feel as if she would never find a mate.

  Pimi glanced sideways at the engorged belly of their mother. As was natural, Mother would serve as the small-family's replete for the journey. When full, her crop would hold enough to feed them sweetly flavored pap for the half-month voyage. She reclined on a couch accepting food from the hands of their deep-family. Pimi's cousins, aunts, uncles and siblings wore their Fest Day tunics. Red and orange scarves lay over their scalps and fluttered about their shoulders like fire, as they carried dishes to Mother. Her long, slender limbs lay in beautiful contrast to her speckled blue belly, which ballooned onto the floor.

  When Pimi became a bride, her crop would be that large.

  On the seventh day of Planting Month, Pimi's small-family boarded a Tep-Tep's steamship bound for Repp-Virja. The captain lowered a special winch to bring Mother on board, as it was impossible for her to navigate the narrow plank spanning the gap between the dock and the steamship. On board, the ship's crew ran about preparing the steamer for departure, their flat bellies illustrating the adage, "straight as a sailor's crop." From time to time, they darted into the shade where the vessel's replete fed them lest they faint from hunger. Larger than any replete Pimi had ever seen, veins marbled his green and white skin.

  Mother and the other passengers' repletes took their places beside him. Each seemed like a child next to his vastness, though Pimi's mother was quite the most attractive of the lot.

  Around her, passengers scurried to stow their belongings. Winged irarad wheeled above the ship, chattering their excitement. Light shown through the thin skin of their wings, turning them into red stained glass. The ocean slapped against the wooden sides of the vessel, but the ship was massive enough that Pimi barely felt the motion. She stood at the railing waving at her deep-family members until long after they had become indistinguishable from the shoreline.

  When she left the rail, her mother beckoned her over to the replete's area. There, an attendant rubbed salve over the skin of a passenger's replete. Another dozed, snoring softly.

  "Speak, Pimi-min." Mother's crop billowed out into a beautiful blue orb. She held out her arm so Pimi could nestle beside her. "Why are you moping?"

  Pimi snuggled against her mother, careful not to touch her crop without permission. "I do not mean to," she said carefully.

  "I will not apologize for taking you away from your deep-Family. It is needful for the status of our dynasty--- You are needed if we are to establish a new branch of House Kejari in Repp-Virja. You are my natural daughter and I expect you to behave as such." Mother tilted Pimi's head back. "But I am sorry that you are sad."

  Pimi ducked her head away and played with the edge of her tunic. "Are there really savages in Repp-Virja?"

  "No! Who told you that?"

  "I saw them in Opperad's play, The Vessel Laughed."

  "Truth, Pimi. You know the difference between fiction and fact." She pulled her arm away. "Don't say anything like that to Matriarch Imji. She'll think the handmaid's blight has got your brain."

  "I won't embarrass you."

  The waves passed them by and Pimi thought for a moment that her mother would not answer, but she sighed. "No. No, I trust that you will not."

  Pimi saluted her and headed below deck, trying to sway with graceful majesty. Someday, her mother would see that for all her small stature, she was not newly-hatched.

  As the Tep-Tep's crew tied up the steamer at the dock in Repp-Virja, the sun beat down, trying to set Pimi's red headscarf on fire. Irarad wheeled overhead here, as they had at home. Beyond the gliders and the ocean, everything else had changed.

  Pimi stared at the white stone spires of Repp-Virja. In addition to the traditional burrow markers, fully-half of the spires seemed to have structures attached to them as if their homes were not safely below ground. Crowds of people swarmed past the waterfront. Flowing robes, the color of marble, cloaked the passers-by. Their headscarves twined around their heads, wrapping their scalps in snug layers of pale cloth. Pimi's saffron tunic glared beacon-bright against the muted colors of Repp-Virja.

  Ero gestured with her chin. "Would you look at that. The entire city is starving."

  Only a few of the robes bellied outward and not a single bare crop showed. When the robes swung open, they showed narrow waists, bound tightly with ribbon. Not savages, but strange as a dayfruit in Deep Winter.

  Her mother, tall and commanding with blue freckles spattering her skin like rain, crossed in front of Pimi. A light silk truss bound the loose skin of her belly. "Do not gawk. I expect my children to make me proud, not to stare about like uncivilized provincials."

  By the time the carriage arrived at the matriarch's cousin's home, Pimi had become convinced that she should have begged the matriarch to let her stay in Arropp-Yraja.

  Only the gas lights in Matriarch Imji's home bore any resemblance to what Pimi expected from a Deep House. Tall narrow windows stood open in constant reminder that they were above ground. Sailor-thin servants filled the foyer with pallid silks, almost disappearing against the white walls. All of them had the same tight ribbons binding their waists that Pimi had seen on the streets. She did not see how they could do their work without fainting from hunger.

  A woman swooped up the grand ramp, her waist bound so tightly that it curved inward. She dipped her head in a gesture of welcome. "Speak, Matriarch Kejari!"

  Mother tilted her head back, indicating that she accepted the hospitality. "We thank you for your welcome, Matriarch Imji."


  Stifling a gasp, Pimi looked again at this woman and then around the foyer at the other people. Now she noticed the richness of the fabrics; these were not servants, but members of House Imaji, bound tightly as if they were bragging about their empty crops.

  "The pleasure is ours." Matriarch Imji's intricately wound headscarf framed her face, showing off the deep blue spots on her brow and the gentle line of her neck. The speckling continued down her neck and arms. "This must be your family. So... exotic." Her gaze darted down to their bellies, all proudly full to show their prosperity, and her lips twitched.

  Pimi wanted to tug the fabric of her tunic over her belly to shield it from Matriarch Imji's disdain, but it was cut to hang open. She tilted her head back in cordial greeting and waited to be bid to speak.

  Matriarch Imji turned slightly away and raised her arm. A double-handful of boys and girls came at her call, each with the grotesque bindings constricting their waists. She paired one of Pimi's family with each, until only Pimi, the youngest, was left. Matriarch Imji turned to the blue and amber boy remaining.

  "Duurir, will you host Kejaridoti Pimi?"

  "It would be my delight, Mother." He inclined his head to Pimi. "Speak, Pimi. May I host you this evening?"

  "I thank you for your welcome." Her toes curled. He had called Matriarch Imji "Mother," which meant he was her small-family son. The House of Imarja was reckoned as one of the great Dynasty Houses in Repp-Virja and Matriarch Imji had not passed her off to a mere nephew. She had asked her son, her natural son, to host Pimi.

  Duurir scratched his chin. "Mother tells me you are from Aaropp-Yraarja."

  As if that were not obvious. Pimi looked down at the floor, the pollen-yellow of her tunic a blazing tribute to her foreign origin. "Yes, we've only just arrived..." Her voice trailed away. What an idiot. Of course they had just arrived.

  Duurir drew Pimi to one of the tall windows. "Our deep-family came from Aaropp-Yraarja five generations ago but I have not been farther than the next state. How do you find Repp-Virja so far?"

  Strange, disconcerting, too hot. "Beautiful. At home our houses are underground and do not have views as expansive."

  "Truth? Parts of our house are underground, in the old style, but few build that way now because the breezes help with Deep Summer heat."

  "At home, the snows of Deep Winter were of more concern."

  "We only get snow on the mountains." Duurir pushed the curtain aside and leaned out the window. "You can just see the mountains from here."

  Through a narrow gap between the tall white buildings, peeked the deep purple of the mountain range to the south of the city. Duurir placed a hand on her back, guiding her to stand before him. "There. See the tall peak?" He was tall for a man and slid an arm over her shoulder so he could point. Her gaze traveled down the muscled length of his arm, past his pointing finger to a blue peak which pushed above the other mountains.

  "Yes." Her voice was a whisper.

  "I study astronomy at the observatory there."

  "I've never met an astronomer before." Pimi winced inside. Such a stupid thing to say. Now he would think her uneducated as well.

  "Funny. Most of the fellows I know are astronomers." The warmth of his body radiated through her tunic.

  Duurir jumped when Matriarch Imji clapped her hands together four times. "My dear friends, we have prepared a meal to welcome you. Please. Join us."

  Pimi followed Duurir and the others into a large, sunny room where more of House Imaji joined them. Instead of small tables with bowls of food around the perimeter of the room, one long empty table spanned the center. Couches circled the table, as if they were expected to dine seated like a replete. Windows let cool breezes waft through like additional guests.

  Matriarch Imji moved to one end of the long table. Duurir led Pimi to a pair of couches and, once he was certain of her comfort, seated himself on the couch to her left so that his head faced hers. When everyone was settled, the double doors at the far end of the room opened.

  A replete stood in the doorway, his crop so full that it did not seem possible for him to support his own weight. He held two padded mallets in his hands.

  Pimi inhaled with recognition; he was a water drummer. She had never seen one outside of a temple before.

  Leaning backward so that his back arced like a bow, he took two agonizing steps forward. There he stood until a servant slid a tall stool beneath him. The replete rested on this, raised the mallets and began drumming on his belly. The muted tones seemed to both fill the room and come from elsewhere, evoking the sound of a flock of varamid galloping across the steppe. He began to sing, weaving the sounds of wind and rain into the syncopated rhythm. His breath reflected each mallet strike outward in song.

  Pimi leaned forward on her couch, breathless with delight. Around her, Matriarch Imji's family continued their conversations, not recognizing the extraordinariness of the occasion. She glanced at Duurir, anxious to know if she were the only one for whom this was an exceptional event.

  He was watching her, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "May I guess that water-drummers are a rarity in Aaropp-Yraarja?"

  The blood left her face in embarrassment; she must look so provincial. "I've never seen one outside the temple."

  "I did not mean to embarrass you. It is nice to see someone else enjoy the music." Duurir gestured languidly at the rest of the room, at his family chatting, but did not say another word. They listened to the rest of the water-drummer's song in silence.

  The doors behind the water-drummer opened again and a stream of servants flooded past him, each bearing a plate of food. Their tunics belled out from their bodies around the smooth arc of full crops. These were not ostentatiously full, but the gentle swell representative of a day's meal.

  Pimi shifted on her couch as she understood: only the servants carried food in their crops here. Her vision lurched, and the beautiful orb of her mother's crop became a grotesque bloating.

  In crisp synchronization, the servants set identical plates between each couple. The white porcelain gleamed under the gaslights; skyberries on flatbread. Pimi did not want to eat anything. She was already larger than the servants.

  Duurir reached forward, broke off a piece of flatbread and folded it around a cluster of sky berries. He turned to her, holding it out. Around them, the other couples were feeding each other, so she tilted her head back and accepted the food from him.

  When she fed Duurir, his lips brushed lightly against her fingertips, kissing the crumbs away. It took her some time to recover her wits enough to carry her end of the conversation. Duurir filled the gaps with talk of the observatory and of all manner of strange phenomena: distant satellites, spots on the sun, strange bodies that traveled through the space around them.

  "Now, you have been very patient to listen to my discussion of astronomy. Most of the girls my mother introduces me to find me exceedingly dull."

  "But you're not!"

  "You are sweet to say so." He accepted a handful of skyberries from her.

  "Truth. I am quite possessed of a desire to see a telescope."

  Duurir lifted his head from the skyberries and blinked at her once. "I almost think you mean that."

  "I do. Quite."

  "Well---" he took a berry from her "---that may be arranged. I am returning to the observatory at the end of Small Harvest, but it will surprise me if your Matriarch lets you come up."

  "Why?"

  His nostrils flared in surprise. "The mountains are our border with Abar. I'm sorry. Of course, things changed during your voyage. You wouldn't know." He waved his hand, gesturing for a servant to clear their plates. "The Abarine High Council had a schism, splitting around Councilor Hadan; he's begun leading border raids into Repp-Virja and our Observatory is close to the pass."

  "Oh."

  "So you see, while I would love to have you come, I doubt that I will see you there."

  "I will petition my mother."

  Duurir gave his attention to the nex
t dish, a slice of melon precisely centered on a creamy wedge of cheese.

  Fruit and dairy? But they never mixed, not without provoking sour crop. Shocked, Pimi looked across the table to her mother. In the set of her neck, Pimi could see a tension, but her mother seemed to be following the lead of the people around them.

  Pimi watched Duurir out of the corner of her eye.

  "It must be very different here." He held out a piece of melon topped with a slice of cheese.

  "It is." The tang of the cheese burst out of the sweet melon, tingling her palate. Perhaps they did not have to worry about sour crop with such small meals.

  "Tell me." His dark eyes were warm with regard. "I want to know everything."

  Beyond the windows, someone screamed. The conversation in the room stopped, shocked into sudden silence.

  Pimi's toes curled to grip the edge of her couch in the beginning of fear as shouting and the sound of wood splintering became audible. She kept the urge to scream trapped in her throat.

  The door slammed open. A flood of men and women dressed in leather armor ran through the doorway. The room overturned in chaos as the guests leaped from their couches, running for the doors on the other side of the room. Her mother stood, staggered and fell to her knees, dragged down by the weight in her crop.

  "Mama!" Pimi ran toward her, but Duurir caught her arm and pulled her away, dragging Pimi out the nearest window. On the grounds, she staggered after him, desperate to vomit in her fear, but with no time to stop and disgorge.

  Duurir pulled her into a storeroom and closed the door, shutting out the terror for the moment.

  "What---"

  "Raiders." Duurir's face was grim. "They have not ventured this far across the border before." He held up his hand and leaned his head against the door, listening. With the first flush of fear lighting his face, Duurir turned to her and opened his mouth.

  The door slammed open, knocking Duurir back against the wall. A man filled the opening, twin swords held in his hands. The boney scales of his leather armor had inlaid spirals of metal.