To Storm Heaven - Esther Friesner [103]
“Not that,” she replied, and he breathed again.
“What binds us now does not come from the years before I was taken up to Ne’elat. This is new.
Geordi… when Bilik held you captive, when he laid his knife to your throat, I was afraid. I thought he would kill you and so I—I spoke hari’imash, the oath of life for life, mine given to him in exchange for yours.” “What? But he can’t hold you to that, can he?” “To speak hari’imash is an ancient oath. If I do not honor it—” The tears spilled over, but her expression twisted from woe to anger before they fell. “Oh, why must I be bound by such a thing? It is ancient, a barbarous custom, and must I destroy my life for the sake something so—so antiquated? So outmoded? A relic of our long ignorance? It shames me to think that we still nurture such archaic ways. To speak hari’imash is like—the evening tale-tellings with the village children. Why must they gather to hear some elder recount the old lore when they could simply be taught to read it for themselves, like civilized people?” “But Ma’adrys, you told me how much you used to enjoy the evening gathering, how much you learned from hearing the elders make the tales come alive for—” Geordi began.
She brushed his arguments aside. “Such things belong to the Iskir that was, not to the world that will be. No. Not Iskir. That name is as primitive as hari’imash itself. I will call my world by its proper name: Ashkaar.” “Proper? According to whom?” Geordi laid his hand palm upward on the tabletop, waiting for hers to come to him while he spoke on. “Listen to yourself, Ma’adrys. What are you saying? That the culture that produced you, and Bilik, and a spiritual life so rich it’s nurtured two worlds is worthless?” “I never—” “Maybe what you’ve promised Bilik is too much.
Maybe hari’imash will have no place in the Iskir of the future. But you can deal with it some other way than by turning your back on everything that’s made you who you are.” “Who am I now, thanks to my oath?” Ma’adrys asked bitterly. “Bilik’s toy.” “If that were true, would you still be your world’s first envoy to Orakisa? Bilik would have said something, made some objection, backed it with your oath.
Many things have changed since he tried to prevent you from becoming an oberyin in your own right.
Hek changed. Trust me, my love, he’s too wise to think of you as his property.” Ma’adrys placed her hand in Geordi’s and squeezed tight. “He had better not,” she said fiercely.
“That’s the Ma’adrys I know. Strong, proud, and— well, sometimes a little bit scary, but I still love you.” Geordi smiled and cupped her face with his o thcr~ ~ hand, bringing her near enough for a lingering kiss.
“I will come back,” Ma’adrys said staunchly when their lips parted. “No matter how long it takes, I will come back to you, my beloved, my starlord. This, too, I swear.” Geordi’s comm badge chirruped before he could respond. “La Forge here.” “Mr. La Forge, the Marcus is within transporter range,” Captain Picard’s voice informed him. “All members of the Orakisan party should report to the transporter room immediately.” “Yes, sir. La Forge out.” He touched the badge a second time, then took Ma’adrys’s hands in his. “It’s time.” “You will not take me to the transporter room?” she asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t. There’s something I must attend to, a malfunction in—It would take too long to explain.” He turned his head