Treason by Orson Scott Card Page A

added truthfully, “I’m not very good at traveling in the dark.”
    “Speak softly,” he said, “for the curtains conceal little, and the night air carries sounds a long way.”
    So we spoke softly as he asked me questions about why I wanted to see the king and what I wanted to accomplish. What could I say? No need to see the old boy now, Official, already got what I wanted. So I answered all his questions, until at last he sighed deeply and said, “Well, Lady Lark, I’ve been told that if you passed my screening, I was in no way to impede you from further approach to the king.”
    Yesterday I would have been delighted. But tonight—tonight I just wanted to take my deformed body with the new arm it was growing and get out of Nkumai.
    “I’m grateful, Official.”
    “Of course you don’t go straight from me to him. A guide will come and take you to the very highly placed person who gave me my instructions, and that very highly placed person will take you higher.”
    “To the king?”
    “I don’t know exactly how highly placed this person is,” Official said, not smiling. How could they conduct government this way, I wondered.
    But a boy appeared when Official snapped his fingers, and led me off another way. I followed gingerly, and this time there was a swing—but the boy lit a torch at the other end, and I made it, though I landed clumsily and twisted my ankle. The sprain was mild, and it healed and lost its soreness in a few minutes.
    The boy left me at a house which had no light, and he told me to say nothing. So I waited in front of the house, until finally a low whisper said, “Come in,” and I went in.
    The house was absolutely dark, but once again I was asked questions, and once again I answered, not having any idea who I was speaking to or even where, precisely, he was. But after a half hour of this, he finally said, “I will leave now.”
    “What about me?” I asked idiotically.
    “You’ll stay. Someone else will come.”
    “The king?”
    “The person next to the king,” he said, even more softly, and left through the gap in the curtains I had entered by.
    Then I heard soft steps in another direction, and someone came in and sat beside me. Close beside me. And then chuckled softly.
    “Mwabao Mawa,” I said, incredulous.
    “Lady Lark,” she whispered back to me.
    “But they told me—”
    “That you would meet the person closest to the king.”
    “And it’s you?”
    She chuckled again.
    “So you are the king’s mistress.”
    “In a way,” she said. “If only there were a king.”
    That one took awhile to sink in.
    “No king?”
    “No one king,” she answered, “but I can speak for those who rule as well as anyone. Better than most. Better than some of them .”
    “But why did I have to go through all of this? Why did I have to—bribe my way up to you? I was with you all along!”
    “Softly,” she said. “Softly. The night listens. Yes, Lark, you were with me all along. I had to know that I could trust you. That you weren’t a spy.”
    “But you showed me the place yourself. Let me smell the smells.”
    “I also showed you how impossible it was to stop us, or duplicate it. Near the ground, Lark, the air smells foul. And your people could never climb our trees, you know that.”
    I agreed. “But why did you show me anyway? It’s so useless.”
    “Not useless,” she said. “The smell has other effects. I wanted you to breathe that air.”
    And then I felt her hand pull the cap off my hair. She gently pulled at a single lock of it. “You owe me a favor,” she said, and suddenly I felt my own death approaching.
    Her breath was hot on my cheek and her hand was stroking my throat when I finally thought of a way out of this. At least a way to postpone it. Perhaps the perfumed air was enough to loosen the sexual tabus of the people of Nkumai. Perhaps it would have been enough of a dose to weaken a normal woman’s inhibition against making love to another woman. But I