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HIGH COUCH

OF SILISTRA

(RETURNING CREATION)

Janet E. Morris

HIGH COUCH OF SILISTRA

A Bantam Book / May 1977

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by

mimeograph or any other means, without permission.

For information address: Bantam Books, Inc.

ISBN 0-553-10522-1 Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

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Bantam Books, Inc. 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10019.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Herewith I do discharge both the chaldra of the Mother, and that of the Father.

Chaldra of the Mother

I am Estri Hadeath diet Estrazi, former Well-Keepress of Astria on the planet Silistra. I have begun three times to tell

this story, and three times I have been interrupted. This, then, the fourth at-tempt, will surely prove successful.

Perhaps you have heard of Silistra, the planet that was catalyst to the sexual revolution in the year twenty-two

thousand, seven hundred and four Bi-pedal Federate Standard Time, or of the Silistran serums that lengthen life and

restore vitality in virtual-ly any bipedal life form, or perhaps you have at some time contracted the services of a

Silistran telepath, or a precognitive, or a deep reader. It is possible that you haye in your own home the scintillating,

indestructible web-cloth woven by our domestic arachnids, or have seen holograms of our golachits, those intelligent

builder-beatles who exude from their mouths that translucent superhard substance called gol and create from this gol,

under the guid-ance of the chit-guards, the formidable and resplen-dent structures in which we live and work.

And perhaps you have seen no web-cloth, no gol, never been ill, and are not interested in sex. If so, you may never

have heard of Silistra.

I carry Silistra in my mind's eye, here under this alien sun. In my mind alone can I look out the east window of my

beloved exercise hall in Well Astria and see the sun's rising burst upon the jewellike towers

and keeps of the Inner Well and a thousand rainbows arc and dance in the greening sky.

I was Well-Keepress. Seven thousand people thrived under the aegis of my Well. I was sought and celebrated for my

beauty and lineage, for I was great-granddaughter to Astria Barina diet Hadrath, the Well-Keepress who seduced

M'Glarenn, Liaison First for the Bipedal Federation, and changed the sexual habits of bipeds on one hundred and

forty-' eight worlds. I was high-couch in the greatest house of pleasure in the civilized stars. I commanded a great

price.

Any being who was capable of desiring me, I could fulfill. I was fluent in the language and customs of fifty worlds. I

had more than a passing acquain-tance with the other ninety-eight. I was reasonably happy, happier than I knew.

I must speak briefly of chaldra and chaldric chains, for it is chaldra that brought me here, to this strange and

frightening world, so far from all that I hold dear.

It is a Silistran saying that we are all bound, the least of us no more than the greatest, and a Silistran would have it no

other way. The bonds of which the saying speaks are bonds of the spirit, of responsibility and duty and custom, and

these are called chaldra. Upon the body of each Silistran, proudly displayed in twisted belts called chalds, are the thin,

supple, many-colored chaldric chains of precious metals. A Silistran without chaldra is a person bereft of pur-pose and

self-respect, and often such unfortunate in-dividuals, when unable to acquire ennobling chaldra, choose to take on the

chaldra of the soil—by their death gaining that which was denied to them in life%

There is high-chaldra and low-chaldra. An exam-ple of high-chaldra is the chaldra of reproduction, of begetting one

child, no easy task among Silistrans, which is symbolized by the bronze chain before the chaldra is met, and the golden

chain after the child has ~been produced. Also the chaldra of the mother and father, the task set by the parent of the

same sex, symbolized by the red chain before completion

and the blue when the task is done. The chaldra to the Stand of Well is high also, and the chain is al-ways silver.

Low-chaldra are such as the chaldra of couch-bond between a man and a woman, recog-nized by the pinkish titrium

chain, or of skill, such as the black-iron Slayer's chain, or of vocation or avocation, as the Day-Keeper's slate-colored

chain or the golachit breeder's brown. There are over two hundred chaldric chains, if one counts both high and low.

I still wear my chald of eighteen intertwined chains. Once it lay snugly across my navel, but I have lost much weight in

this dreadful place, and now it slaps annoyingly about my lower abdomen as I labor at the senseless tasks set me by

my inscruta-ble masters.

I was marked from birth for this end, and all saw it, but none understood. I was born out of couch-bond to

Well-Keepress Hadrath Banin diet Inderi by an out-worlder known only as Estrazi. My mother carried me thrice the

normal term, and died birthing me on the twenty-five thousandth anniversary of Well Astria.

How much my mother knew of my fate is still open to conjecture, but until I received her legacy, and another, on my

three hundredth birthday, I thought myself little different, if more favored, than my couch-sisters. The second bequest

came in the form of a let-ter from my great-grandmother Astria, to be opened upon the three hundredth anniversary of

my birth. The letter, which I received in the office" of Rathad, my dead mother's half-brother and adviser to my Well,

had my full name upon it and the date, Macara fourth seventh, 25, 693, and was written eight hun-dred and forty years

before I was born.

The letter lay between us on the table of thala-wood that I had shipped down from the northern forests as a gift to my

mother's brother almost a full year ago. A silver cube lay beside the envelope, yel-low with age, upon the night sky of

the thala. The reflections deep within the wood seemed to go on for-ever.

Musicians tuning, laughing, limbering through their scales mixed with kitchen clank and the gol-master's hoarse calls

as he set the golachits to their building. I did not rise from my seat to watch them at work in the Inner Well amid the

bustle of the Well as it is rising, as I might have on another day. Nor did the smells of the morning meal, of baking

bread and roasting meat, entice me. My appetite had dis-appeared with Rathad's summons. My recalcitrant

precognitive gift had given me no warning, nor any information as to why, on this, the one day of the year on which I

habitually secluded myself, seeing and speaking to no one, he had sent for me. On this day had he sent a messenger to

summon me from my solitude. I had run the distance here to Rathad's keep, filled with foreboding, leaving the

messenger in the exercise hall staring, undismissed, openmouthed at my undignified haste.

When I reached the mirrored doors and burst through them, I was badly winded. Rathad did not so much as raise his

grizzled head to me in greet-ing, but waved me to the dark carven chair, silent, staring fixedly at the two objects on the

table between us.

My breathing was no longer labored when Rathad, his fingers upon the silver cube, raised his eyes to mine.

"Daughter of my sister," he said, "have you, per-haps, knowledge of these things before me, that you have arrived

here so swiftly?"

I shook my head no, and his jibe passed unan-swered, though at any other time I would have be-rated him for

disturbing me.

He sighed. "One might hope that the foreseeing abilities of your mother, and, it seems, your great-grandmother"—his

hand was on the envelope— "might someday manifest in you. You have no idea, then, why I sent for you today, or

even why you showed such uncharacteristic haste in presenting yourself to me?"

"None at all." I am a very weak foreseer. "Did you call me to discuss my psychic debilities? If so," I said, rising, "I will

return to my day's undertakings." I did not care for the amused condescension in his voice.

"Will you indeed? I doubt it. Now, sit back down. Good. It would be a sad thing, Estri, if you let our personal

differences prevent you from receiving this message from your mother, and this ... ah, shall we say, unusual

communication from the Foundress of the Well herself." He was leaning back in his chair, fondling his chald, a smile

playing around his lips.

"What mean you, Rathad? Do not toy with me."

"I mean but what I say, Well-Keepress. This," he said, picking up the silver cube, each side of which was the length of

my middle finger, "is a recording device, popular in the days of my youth. When your mother knew herself pregnant

with you, she came to me with it and asked that I deliver it to you at this time. She knew she would not survive your

birth." I heard the bitterness in his voice. It was common knowledge that Rathad considered his sister's self-sacrifice

ill-conceived, and had urged her to abort me. Because it was his chaldra to do so, he had brought me up. I am sure he

would rather have drowned me upon the day of my birth, so great was his love for my mother, Hadrath.

"And this," he continued, fingering the yellowed envelope, "this comes to us through the kindness of Day-Keeper

Ristran, who attests to its authenticity, and bids me to tell you it has lain in the Hall of Records these eight hundred

and forty years, await-ing your maturity.

"I have not opened either of them, nor do I have any information as to their contents. I have my sup--positions, of

course, the validity of which we will as-certain here together." Again that deeply seasoned face smiled at me. Rathad's

smile has always made me nervous. It is the smile of the predator upon a new kill.

His hand closed about the silver cube, and he shook

it. A dull rattle dame from it. "As is often the case with such containers, there is something within." He placed the cube

carefully beside the envelope.

"Which one, which will you explore first, Estri?"

I grabbed for the silver shape so fast I brushed his retreating hand. He had not made clear to me the significance of the

letter, except that it was old and that it had been in the possession of the Day-Keep-ers, those among us who study

the past and keep its legacy. In any case, I, who had never seen my moth-er's face or heard her voice, had in my hands

that which she had meant for her daughter to hold. Emo-tion roared through me like the Falls of Santha. My hands

shook and my tongue attached itself to the roof of my dry mouth.

I held it, turning the metal cube in my fingers. My mother's name rang in my head. I searched for my voice.

"How does it work?" I asked finally. I had seen two small circular insets, and above them a larger tri-angular one, all on

one side of the object. The other sides were, as far as I could determine, featureless. I was afraid, suddenly, that I might

somehow damage it before its long-held secrets could be revealed.

"Hold the cube with the circles uppermost." I did so.

"Farther away from you. Now, press once firmly upon the triangle." I did this also, and a rectangular section halfway

down the cube's surface slid back, and then from the opening extruded a dished bar, metal on all sides but the one

facing me, which was composed of two lenses recessed in a metal frame.

"Put the eyepiece against your eyes so that the metal bar between is in contact with the bone at the bridge of your

nose. Now, press the left-hand circle, once only."

I held the expanded cube before my eyes. It was contoured so that it rested against the bones of my face snugly,

letting in no light. I pressed the left-hand circle.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then I saw her.

She was standing before a window set into umber gol, the same shade as Rathad's keep. Her dress was the simple

wide-sleeved white and silver of the Keepress, chald-belted, and flowing translucent to the floor. Her belly seemed a

trifle rounded, but her breasts were high and firm, the nipples standing well up. I thought her much more beautiful than

I. Her skin was the rare Silistran white, transparent and delicate. Her eyes were the gray-green of the predawn sky. Her

hair was the color of the finest northern thala, black, blue, and glistening silver. She was smaller than I, wider-boned.

Otherwise we were much alike. Her nose was as mine, deliciously straight, chiseled, and haughty. I could see her

nostrils flaring as she breathed. Her mouth, also, was like mine, full, sen-suous, with a touch of cruelty at each

indented cor-ner. Her cheekbones were high and wide, her chin tiny yet firm, with the subtlest hint of a cleft in its

middle. But for the size and coloring, her stamp was heavy upon me.

She raised a fine-boned hand to her forehead, and then I heard her voice, musical and breathy.

"Little one, spark of life that kicks and twists in-side me, now that the moment is here, I do not know how to say what I

must. Since you have received this, my life has been well-bartered." My mother cleared her throat, rubbing her belly

absently with her hands.

"I have some fear that Rathad and others may press guilt upon you. Let me assure you, by my own mouth, that you

were conceived in love, with full understand-ing of the consequences, and, values weighed, that my Me for yours is

little to give.

"Oh, Estri, for that is the name you will bear, at this time in my life, when I most wish to be warm and loving, to give

you all of motherhood and sus-taining purpose in a few short moments, I find my-self cold with fear and stiff with

self-consciousness. How will you see me, daughter? I did not desert you willingly. The arrangements for your

upbringing have been well attended to, your social and economic posi-tion secured. But what is it to be without the

touch

of a mother's hand, the comforting circle of her arms, in those difficult times of youth? No recording can give you that

which has been denied by fate and need. If you can bear me no ill will for the frailty of my flesh, I will know it, for I

have demanded of my eternal spirit that it watch over you all your days. I have no doubt that this will be so." She

stopped, swallowed hard, blinking.

"That is the worst of it, I think," continued my mother.

"Now that there is understanding between us, child unborn, I would speak to you of your father, and what was

between us, your parents. Though we were couch-met, it was as if I had known him for a thou-sand forevers. Our races

are only semicompatible, hence the long term which I will carry you, and my projected death at your birth. The benefits

to the is-sue of such a union far outweigh the debits. You will live twice, perhaps three times the normal Silistran span.

Were you slow maturing, little one? You now know the reason. Within you lie dormant abilities far beyond the ken of

those around you, and in time you will come to know them.

"We are as children to your father's people, and he did me great honor in choosing me to bear his get. Which brings

me to the chaldra I would put upon you. It is my wish, and that of your sire also, that you seek him and meet with him,

be it here on Silistra or upon the planet of his birth. Little help can I give you in your task, for there is a testing in its

accomplishment, but be sure that there is reason greater than any you could dream in our request. The time is short,

and I must hurry." She looked down for a moment at something off the screen.

"You-will soon see the moment of your conception. What prompted me to record our coupling, I do not know, unless

it was the meeting that preceded this record. You will understand, when you view it, why you have not received this

until, in your own blossom-ing maturity, you have become wise in the ways of men.

"When the record is ended, put your hand be-neath the cube, and receive the ring of your father. The ring is the key.

Keep it on your person, even in sleep, until you rest within your father's house. It will identify you and keep you safe

among his people, should your search take you so far."

She smiled, a smile I will never forget.

"It is, child of my heart, a great sadness to me that our meeting and parting be so close together. Re-member, Estri, I

love you and am with you ever. Tasa, Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi."

The grayed screen flickered, became what could only have been the magnificent keep of my mother, the Keepress.

I saw her, upon the silver covers of the couch, and her skin glistened with sweat. Her breasts rose and fell with her

impassioned breathing, nipples flushed and erect. She leaned back on stiff arms, naked, her marvelous long legs

outstretched, slightly spread, her feet beneath the iridescent coverlet.

The room was candlelit, and the light flickered and glowed about her.

"Come, then, barbarian god," she taunted, teeth flashing, "come and take me, if you can. Put that deathly seed of

yours where it will do the most good." She laughed low, and tossed her head. Her hair fell curling across her left

breast.

"You must petition me more prettily than that, well woman, before I fill your belly." The second voice was deep,

undeniably commanding, full of strange sibi-lances. "Surely you cannot expect to do so little, and receive so much.

Show me the skills that have made you high-couch here. Or, perhaps, you do not truly possess them?"

With a leap from the darkness, he was on her, one knee beside each of her breasts, his hand still upon her throat. He

turned his head to her left shoulder, and his face, eyes heavy-lidded in his heat, was clearly defined.

He was indeed and truly my father. His eyes and hair were the color of molten bronze, his skin but

scant tones lighter. His body was light-boned for his mass, and the muscles rippled in long flat slabs as he crouched

above her.

I watched him use her, and I have never seen a woman so diabolically aroused, so freed from the bonds of mind, so

deliciously debased. He brought her, leaping to his hand, to the edge of climax three times before he allowed her to

attempt to please him. Finally, acquiescing to her desperate pleas, he lay back and allowed her to work her skills on

him. Their multilingual love-abuse encompassed all that I knew and went beyond.

Once he pulled her head from his lap, and holding her arched back by the hair, said in archaic Silistran, "You are truly

worthy to be high-couch," and thrust her head back down.

When he was ready, he lifted her into the air and set her down upon him as one might lift a young child of no

significant weight. If she had been be-neath him, the violence of that final coupling surely would have crushed the life

from her there and then.

The last thing I saw was my mother nestled in the crook of his arm, her tears rolling down his shoulder, to settle in the

hollow in his throat.

The screen went blank. I started to lift the cube from my face, only at the last moment remembering my mother's

instructions. My hand shot out to catch the ring as it fell from the opening bottom of the cube.

I did not look at it, but pushed the cube across the table to Rathad, this long while waiting.

He looked at me, for my permission to view it. I could not speak. The room swam before my eyes. I nodded my assent

and leaned back in the carven thala chair, the ring clutched unexamined in my fist, to let my tears flow while my

mother's brother viewed the cube.

I had not cried for some years, and as the moisture of my grief and joy poured out of me and filled my lap, my

confusion went with them. I knew what I must do. I raised my head to tell Rathad, but he was still sunk deep within

Hadrath's record.

Dispassionately I deep-read him, knowing that he could not feel the touch of my mind while so en-grossed in my

mother's story. If foreseeing is my weakest skill, deep-reading is my strongest. I can, in moments, and without trancing,

acquire from any sentient being an accurate estimate of his basic na-ture, motivation, and any deep-seated emotion he

is feeling. I did so. I was pleased with what I saw. Rathad would be less troublesome to me in the near future. He was

deeply moved and full of remorse. Whether or not he had treated me fairly, he now felt that he had not, and that was

sufficient. If he had caught me at it, however, I would have lost that which through my mother I had gained. I withdrew

al-most immediately.

My father's ring was still clenched in my right fist. So much was happening, my head was so full of plans, I had not

even looked upon it.

I brought my fist to eye level and slowly opened my stiff fingers. I had clutched it so hard that the blood had been

forced from my hand. It lay facing me, on my wet palm. The metal was a pale yellow in color, perhaps gold. It was very

large and heavy. I could have fit two fingers within its circle. I remem-bered the hand that had worn the ring, and I

shiv-ered. Within the bezel was set a glowing black stone, as large as titrium half-well coin, and in the black stone itself

were a thousand white points of light, scattered in a seemingly random pattern. As I looked closer, I determined that

these were not characteristic markings of the black stone, but tiny inset gems, some as small as a pore on the skin,

some slightly larger. One of the bigger stones was not white, but a brood-ing blood color. This was set in the

upper-right corner. If this random patterning could be said to resemble a spiral, then the red stone was far out on the

north-eastmost arm. I had never seen such a ring. The craftsmanship was exquisite. I turned it. The sides were covered

with raised script, but it was no lan-guage with which I was familiar.

I slipped my first and middle fingers within the

band and closed my hand into a fist once more. I wished there was a way to make it smaller, but I knew I would not so

deface it. I put my right hand within my left, and both in my lap. I would have to find another way to wear my father's

ring. I con-sidered the possibilities until I heard Rathad place the cube back upon the table.

His face was ashen white and his eyes bleary. He leaned his elbows upon the table and supported his chin with one

hand. In the other he held the letter. He extended it to me. I shook my head and made no move to take it.

"Not yet," I said. "That which has waited so long can wait a while longer. Summon a runner. I will leave with Santh

tomorrow morning. There is much to do before the next sun's rise. If Ristran is still here, I will meet with him in my keep,

and we will take our mid-meal there together. If not, then I will do the same with the highest-ranking Day-Keeper you

can produce by that time. I will also need the toilet wom-en to help me prepare. Send a chalder also to Jana's room, for

she will be high-couch while I am gone." Jana and I thought alike on most social and political issues; she had met her

chaldra of reproduction, and I liked and respected her. She would enjoy being high-couch, but not so much that she

would be un-willing to relinquish the position when the time came.

"Impossible," Rathad snapped. His face had re-gained its normal color.

"Which?" I asked.

"All of it. You cannot leave the Well until the chaldric priorities have been determined, if at all. How many chains do

you wear? Are all of them meaningless when compared to this adventure? Such tasks are usually carried out before

major responsi-bilities are assumed. The Day-Keepers must decide. I have never heard of a three-hundred-year-old

wom-an, of responsibility and position, romping off to do the chaldra of the mother. Perhaps they will allow it, but not

until the papers have been filed, the purifications done, the ceremonies complete. It will

take time." His voice was very loud, his face red. "And your chald. You cannot go without another. It must be made,

wound, prayed upon. The chalder will never be able to produce one for you in a matter of hours, should he wish to,

which he will not. You can-not possibly leave before Detarsa fourth seventh. It will take the full pass to arrange things.

I do not agree with you about Jana. There are those more de-serving of such an honor." He rubbed his hand across his

face? "But if you insist upon her, she must be readied to take on your duties. AH these things take time. It is now the

last of Macara. Give me these twenty-eight days, and when the pass is done, I will not obstruct you. Truly, I do not

obstruct you now, but simply remind you of the forms to which you must attend. Perhaps the Day-Keepers will uphold

you. The circumstances here are very unusual. But what-ever comes to be, you must meet your fate with an eye to the

traditions of this Well, and with dignity and grace."

"I know you mean well, Rathad, and that you would not obstruct me. I ask you again to attend to these things for me.

Only summon for me the Day-Keeper and the chalder, and the others that I need. I feel certain that this matter can be

arranged in a way acceptable to all concerned. If I am wrong, then I have but taken mid-meal with the Day-Keeper, and

discussed certain matters with the high-chalder. I will take Santh to the Liaison First's tomorrow, whatever the

outcome, so I will need the fitter and the toilet women. I will let the subject of Jana rest for the present, but the rest

must be done." I smiled my most winning smile.

"I think I should like parr and eggs, fresh fruit, cheese, and wine. Perhaps enough for three, for the high-chalder might

also be hungry. Do hurry, for mid-day is close upon us."

Shaking his head, a smile playing across his lips, Rathad strode to the mirrored doors with a swirl of his iridescent

web-cloth robe. I heard his muffled voice giving instructions to the runner just outside. I

sighed with relief. I had been unsure I could persuade him.

When he reentered, he did not sit again behind the table, but came to lean against it by my side, so close that I could

see every white curling hair that poked its way through the straps of his thonged sandal. He handed me the old

yellowed envelope once again, and this time I took it.

I broke the seal and withdrew the sheet within. The hand was sure and strong. There was no greet-ing.

"The woman I seek, whose name the envelope bears, is all of a color, the color of the spring sun rising, with hair of

molten bronze that brushes the ground. In my vision it seemed that this woman and I were of a kind. I will never know.

To her I say: 'Guard Astria, for you may lose it, and more. Beware one who is not as he seems. Stray not into the port

city of Baniev. And lastly, look well about you, for your father's daughter's brother seeks you.'

"If you succeed, you will be lauded, even as I am lauded, for you will accomplish more than you at-tempt. Be strong,

for the father will surely help his daughter."

It was signed "Astria Barina diet Hadrath." I read it twice. It seemed that every hair on my body stood away from my

flesh. It is said that obscur-ity is the cloak of the forereader. My great-grand-mother had drawn that cloak close about

her in the writing of this message. That it was meant for me, and no other, was beyond doubt. But no one is as he

seems; I had no intention of visiting Baniev, far up the coast; and I had no brother. Her encouragement made even less

sense. My search was of personal im-port only, and my mother had said it was a testing, so no help from my father

would be forthcoming.

I had no fear for Astria. The Well was in the same hands that had guided it these three hundred years. But I would take

care.

I shook my head and handed the perplexing oracle to Rathad.

I felt most discomfited, yet I was glad my great-grandmother's message had reached me. It would be a great lever with

which to pry the Day-Keepers from their conventions.

"What sense do you make of it, Estri?" said Rathad, frowning at the letter in his hands.

"Very little," I replied, "but I will look more sharply about me, and you must see the affairs of the Well with great care."

"Doubtless there is a hidden meaning," he mused. "Doubtless," I agreed. "But perhaps it is too well-hidden."

"I would take all pains to avoid Baniev, were I you," he continued.

"I will avoid," I announced, "not only Baniev, but

Baniese also, and products bearing that city's stamp."

"Has it occurred to you," my mother's brother asked,

"that much time has passed since Hadrath's death,

and the father you seek may be no longer among the

- living?"

"It occurred to me," I admitted. "But the message of my mother said he awaits me, and it was she who chose the point

in time at which I would assume the chaldra. If he is dead, it is by accident and not by age or infirmity. I must seek him.

Who knows how long the bronze people live? Not I." Rathad grunted and sucked his teeth. "I yield." He sighed. "If it

was known that you would take this chaldra and make this journey eight hundred and forty years ago, then, by the

Day-Keep-ers' Clock, you must make it, and I must give you whatever help I can."

He reached behind him for the silver cube, and handed it and the letter, which he placed carefully within the envelope,

from his pale hands into my cop-per ones.

"Run, child," said he, bending to kiss my cheek, "or you will keep the Day-Keeper waiting."

II.

The Liaisons, First arid Second

When I could restrain Santh's need to hunt no longer, I found a resting place in the shade of two large boulders,

removed the surcingle from about his black-furred girth, and let him loose. With a great leap and a snap of his mighty

wings, he was off, bounding and gliding, silent, deadly. Four bounds took him from my view. There is nothing on

Silistra to compare with the speed of a hulion at the hunt.

While I waited for him to return, cool and com-fortable in the late-morning shadows, my back against the larger

boulder, I reviewed the events that had brought me here to the trail that would lead, by night-fall, to the house of the

Liaison First, M'lennin, my former couchmate.

Janet Morris - Silistra 1 - High Couch of Silistra.pdf

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