Ganne


10 - A Machine Strong In The Ganne.


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Genella and Marlek reined in on the open space before the looming grey
presence of the Maron Gate.  From the darkness of the broad arch, a young
soldier in full armour came clanking and jingling into the bright morning
sun.  He dipped his spear in salute to the Lady, snapped off a salute to
Marlek, and said, "Sir...  The Commander has had to go out on urgent
business." The soldier glanced nervously at Genella, licked his suddenly
dry lips, then looked back to Marlek.  "He says for you to see to the
comfort of the Lady, sir."

Marlek sketched in a salute.  "Any idea what it's about, trooper?"

"Important inspection, Sir.  Some new troops stationed at Varian." The
guard suddenly grinned conspiratorially.

"Which means he'll have gone to ground in the tavern there," Marlek
observed, returning the grin.  "He'll not be back until tonight then?"

The sentry's eyes flicked to Genella.  "No sir.  Doesn't look like it."
Genella took note of the furtive glance.  She sighed in irritation.  It
was a dangerously expressive sound.  The young sentry took a step back,
his face going pale under his helmet.  He said, "I'll not detain you,
Lady...  Sir.  If you want to get on?...  "

The last time Genella had been summoned by Olan on Council business after
one of her drinking binges was still fresh in everyone's minds.  It was
safe to say that she had definitely not comported herself like a lady, or
in a manner seemly to one of her background and rank.  People of the town
were still gossiping about it in hushed tones lest their speculations come
to her ears and provoked Goddess alone knew what extra trouble for them.

"If you so much as smile, Marlek," Genella said in an ominous voice, "I
shall take great pleasure in knocking you off that bloody great brute of a
horse." She started her little brown mare forward under the arch.

Marlek had to manually restrain his great black war charger.  It scented
home, hay, oats and the warmth of the stables.  Marlek patted its neck,
raised an eyebrow at the sentry, and slackened the reins.  The great horse
darted forward after the brown rump of Genella's mount, which was fast
disappearing under the arch.

Side by side, they rode out into the barracks square behind the gate.  The
large stone-flagged area, enclosed on all four sides by two storey
buildings in grey stone, was still mostly in shadow.  A long shaft of
golden light shone under the arch, illuminating the twice life sized
statue of Trevina Bah Maron on her plinth of black marble.  It stood at
the exact centre of the square.  Through another less imposing gate at the
far side, the town proper lay.  From there came the sounds of a busy
garrison town, setting itself up for another day's trading.

They dismounted in front of the statue of the only representative of the
Bah Maron Clan to take a seat on the Ganne Council.  She gazed serenely
down at them, frozen in stone, smiling a benediction out of a long ago
past.  In the style of that time, she held upright in her right hand her
Bayonne.  In later eras, the long blade of the Bayonne would have been
pointed down at the earth.  Nowadays, it was fashionable for the
representations of the great Ganne Witches to be holding a book or scroll.
The petty conceit always made Genella smile.  Neither the traditional
benign serenity, nor the addition of the book could ameliorate either the
perception or the reality of the great Ganne Witches.  They had been, they
still were, a pretty nasty lot all in all, when one came right down to it.
They had power, real power, and they were not slow to use it, both for
good or ill.

Stable orderlies came forward, and took charge of the horses.

Marlek turned to Genella.  He made a neat bow.  "Lady," he addressed her
in his best courtly manner, something he never failed to do in public,
having a mind to the proper deference due to rank.  "There's a few things
I shall have to attend to, now that the Commander has had to go off on
urgent business."

Genella felt a warm glow at Marlek's old fashioned courtesy.  For a
country boy, he could be a real gentleman.  He always accorded her proper
respect even knowing what he did about her.  It was the thing that most
endeared him to her.  Genella bit down on a bitter little smile.  What he
knew about her?  By the Goddess...  The whole country hereabouts was still
buzzing with talk of her latest drinking excesses.  She really ought to do
something about that.

Genella drew off her hood and shook out her long brown hair.  "Now that
I've frightened him away, you mean."

Marlek's features remained neutral.  "I fear, Lady," he said delicately,
"the Commander has not forgotten the last time he summoned you on Council
business."

A scowl settled on Genella's aristocratic countenance.  She really would
have to get a hold of her drinking.  She had felt herself gathering speed
down a slippery slope for some time now; but she just could not summon the
will to apply the brakes.  Maybe Phaedra could help?  Goddess, but she
needed to use the latrine.

She turned back to Marlek, her face carefully composed.  She said; "attend
to your duties, Lieutenant.  I shall while away the time with Sister
Phaedra.  Maybe she will have something among her pills and potions that
will drive out this damnable headache."

"Will you not inspect the strange contrivance first?"

Genella sighed.  "Duty first then.  Lead on Lieutenant." Without waiting
for him to point out the way, she set off for the narrow alley between two
buildings forming the north wall.  She did not need anyone to show her the
way; she could 'see" it in the Ganne.  It had a powerful Ganne Aura.
Marlek trailed behind her to where the box stood, just inside the mouth of
the alley.

Genella stopped, staring in amazement at the tall blue box.  It was a
machine, just a machine, and yet it was indisputably 'Strong in the
Ganne'.  She had read of such things in the Histories of the Ganne, but
she had never thought they had really existed; nor that she might ever
live to witness such a marvel.

It glowed gently in the Ganne, a bright silvery colour.  Genella fancied
her inward eyes had never seen such beauty.  Almost of its own accord, her
hand went out to the box.  She brushed her fingers against the side.
Genella gave a little gasp of joy, and relaxed into the soothing, silver
embrace.  It was the most wondrous thing that had ever touched her soul.
The box shone like a beacon of calm in the Ganne...  And yet...  And yet
...  Genella drew back the hand as if stung.

"What is it?" asked Marlek, his voice concerned.

"The machine is dying."

"Dying?  But it's only a machine?"

"It is Strong in the Ganne," said Genella; "its Essence is of the Ganne.
It is Ganne, through and through, heart and soul."

Marlek said; "if it is Strong in the Ganne, then can you talk to it?"

"Not in any way that you could understand."

Marlek shrugged.  He was a Ganne Sensitive.  He could appreciate concepts
that could not be contained by words.  The marvelous machine was 'Strong
in the Ganne' - which said everything - and nothing.  There was nothing
more that could be comprehended by one who was not a Ganne Witch.  Such
had been the way of the world for centuries unnumbered.  Such things were
the business of the Ganne Council.  He was a common soldier...  And what
was more important, a soldier under orders.

"Lady?"

Genella started, coming back to herself from some compelling enchantment.
"Hmmm?"

"Lady?...  The prisoners who came in the box?...  The interrogation?..."

Genella shook her head, as if clearing away cobwebs.  She reached out and
brushed a finger to the box, letting the caress linger a long second,
enjoying the soothing sense of harmony emanating in solid silver waves
from the strange blue machine, before stepping back with a sigh of regret.

"Have them brought up to Olan's office," she directed, her gaze drawn
irresistibly back to the box.  "I'll question them there."

Just being near this wondrous machine made her feel so much better.  It
had the power to make her believe in magic, and the granting of wishes.
With sudden decisiveness, her eyes went to a door in the wall half way
down the alley.  A terrible anguish wrung her features; but despite her
misgivings, she had suddenly found the strength of will needed to make a
decision she had been avoiding for far too many years.  It was the
nearness to the marvelous box, she knew, which was infusing her spirit
with this new strength.

"Give me half an hour, Lieutenant," she said.  "I must consult with the
Sister Phaedra.  Have some refreshments sent up to Olan's office.  I shall
question the prisoners over breakfast."

Genella started abruptly for the dark doorway.  As she moved out of the
box's influence, her resolve wavered; but she hesitated only a moment.
After all, the only thing she really risked was a tongue lashing from the
Soul Speaker; and there was always a hope of exorcising her guilt, and a
chance to put the damming catastrophe that had blighted her life behind
her - a chance to move on with her life.  It only took a little courage.
She glanced once at the box, and felt its silver aura wash over her,
steeling her resolve.  Her shoulders set, she started up the stairs beyond
the door.

At the top of the flight, Genella paused.  Leading off to one side, a long
passage ran away to the back of the building.  The corridor was
illuminated by a narrow arched window at the far end.  Genella took a deep
breath and turning, stepped through the arch opposite, pushing aside the
bead curtain.  The room beyond was a small waiting area with pale green
walls.  Padded, brown leather benches lined the walls.  There was a door
directly opposite.

A woman's voice sang out from the other room.  "Emergencies only.  I'm not
open yet."

Genella felt the touch of a powerful Ganne Field.  The mind withdrew
immediately; but not before Genella became aware of the ill concealed
irritation.

An older, plumper version of Genella appeared in the doorway.  She looked
her visitor up and down without any welcome in her expression.  She wore
an ankle-length light blue smock.  The symbol of the Healers, a Golden
Dragon clutching a Vellas Bloom in its talons, was embroidered on the left
breast.  "What do you want, Genella?" Phaedra demanded; "you know I don't
do hangover cures."

Genella winced at the barb.  Wearily, she sank onto one of the padded
benches.  "Please, Phaedra, don't scold me this morning...  Not this
morning; I just can't take it this morning.  I've already had Bettan going
on at me."

The older Ganne studied her closely for a moment.  "Yes.  You do look
particularly bad this morning.  But you have only yourself to blame for
that."

"Oh, please, Phaedra," Genella moaned; "I just want to use the toilet."

"You know where it is," Phaedra snapped, still unsympathetic.

Genella went.  When she returned, Phaedra was standing in the middle of
the waiting area with a small glass of clear liquid.  She held it out.
"Here, child...  This might help a little."

It tasted foul.  Genella pulled a face.  "Thank you, Phaedra.  You are a
dear," she said, forcing a smile, and handing back the glass.

"Soft, you mean," Phaedra corrected without rancor.  "Now?  if that's all?
I do have a surgery to prepare for."

Genella made no move to leave.  She had come here with a purpose; but the
horror of what she had done so long ago still remained so fresh in her
mind, it made it difficult to cling to her resolve.  Standing irresolute
in the quiet waiting area, she allowed the visions of that morning in the
Great Library at the Shennon to flood into her mind.

Malincha's pathetic corpse dangled by the neck from the red curtain cords.
The once beautiful face was now swollen and purple, tilted on one side.
The mouth hung open, the tongue lolling out.  The dead eyes, wide and
staring, held a damning accusation.  Mingled with the smell of leather
bound books, Malincha's perfume and furniture polish was the stench of
human excrement which Malincha had voided in the throws of her death.  The
stink made Genella feel sick.  Genella remembered the way the bright
morning sunlight struck through the tall windows of the library, lighting
the grisly scene with an obscene clarity.  She remembered the way the
slight draft stirred the silken fabric of Malincha's light blue dress,
making it shimmer.  An ornate chair lay overturned nearby, in a pool of
sunlight, the dark wood glowing warmly.

With cringing fear, she recalled the cold angry face of Guara, Malincha's
mother, as the Matriarch pushed a ragged sheet of paper into her hands.
The scrawled lettering, in Malincha's infantile hand, was made almost
illegible by the girl's tears.  Genella's hands were shaking so much, it
proved nearly impossible to decipher the vitriolic and frenzied out
pouring of hatred and reproach against herself, the Princess Genella Bah
Dishone.  She had red the note over and over, unable to comprehend how her
casual seduction of the girl's fiance had resulted in this terrible
disaster.  It had been nothing more than a thoughtless prank, a way to
take the arrogant air-headed little commoner down a peg or two and
demonstrate to the upstart her proper place in Society.  Genella still had
that note.

On Guara's orders, they had locked the shaking Genella in with the corpse.
Even then, Guara had a name for a sadistic streak, and was not slow to
give it a loose rein.  "You know what you must do." Guara had said as a
parting shot, pulling the door too and locking it behind her.  Finally, in
the late afternoon, Genella had drawn her Bayonne...

"Was there something else?" Phaedra inquired, breaking in on Genella's
waking nightmare.

Genella wanted to speak, but the stern set to Phaedra's features over
mastered her intention.  She dithered, reluctant to leave, yet unable to
set her foot to the path of redemption.  At last, Genella shook her head.
"No.  I am sorry I bothered you."

Phaedra fixed her with a penetrating stare.  "Genella," she said softly,
"Genella, you HAVE to ask...  Unless you ask, I can do nothing to help
you."

Panic flared in Genella's soul.  Hastily, she turned to flee.

"Wait, Genella!" Phaedra commanded.  She rose and moved to the door to her
consulting room.  She paused in the doorway to regard Genella a moment.
Absently, her long, graceful fingers fiddled with the empty glass.  "Wait
there, Genella.  There is something I would like you to do for me."

Genella waited.  From inside the other room came the sounds of Phaedra
rummaging about, followed by the slither of metal being drawn from oiled
leather.  Then she was back in the doorway.

Genella's eyes widened slightly at sight of the long, broad bladed, double
edged knife in Phaedra's hands.  The Soul Speaker held it up before her,
the blade gleaming a quiet grey.  It was too long to be called a knife,
too short to be a sword.  Down the middle of the blade were incised
abstract curling designs like vines.  Just under the hilt they bunched up
and metamorphosed into a surround for a shield like crest - The Device of
the Bah Dishone Clan.  Phaedra came forward smiling, holding the symbol of
Ganne Power out to Genella.

"Will you accept my Bayonne?" Phaedra asked.

Genella's mouth dropped open.  She half shook her head.  She gathered
herself, taking a deep breath.  She straightened and met Phaedra's gaze
levelly.  "I am unworthy.  The honour is too much.  I cannot in all
honesty pledge myself to bear it with the proper gravitas."

"I am not asking you to do that.  Just carry it for me.  I know that you
will not disgrace it.  And..." she broke off to look around at her
surgery.  "...It grows rusty here.  I do not even buckle it on any more.
And I know that you..."

It was not possible to hide anything from a Soul Speaker.  Genella
blushed, and clutched instinctively at her robes where the broken shards
of her Bayonne were concealed.  She had broken her Bayonne in the Library
before the corpse of Malincha.  It was the formal way for a Ganne to
renounce her ambition.  It was the symbolic way for a person to put aside
the power and privileges, rights and responsibilities attendant upon one
who is Strong in the Ganne.  She had lived these many years with the
broken shards of her Bayonne grinding against each other in the sheath in
the concealment of her robes as a reminder of her solemn vow to do no more
harm.

"I cannot.  Phaedra, I formally broke my Bayonne, and have given up all
right to the privileges of the Ganne."

"Then it's about time you took up the symbol of your power again.  I offer
you mine.  I know that you will not disgrace it.  Will you accept my
Bayonne?  And carry it to the glory of the Clan Bah Dishone?"

Of course, put like that, invoking Clan Honour, Genella could not refuse.
She was Bah Dishone, and all the noblesse oblige which that entailed,
notwithstanding the dark things that had overwhelmed her and brought her
low.  Yes, she would carry Phaedra's Bayonne and be proud.  And, if the
Goddess granted her grace, cover it with glory for the older woman.

Genella held out her hands; and Phaedra laid the blade across them.

Phaedra stood back, smiling.  It was begun; at last the desperate plan to
save a world, at which she had worked for many decades, was launched.


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