Free The Ghost Sister by Liz Williams Page B

mission
    Bel Zhur studied her face in the water below. She seemed to have become pale and remote, like the ghost Mevennen had called her. The reflection of her hair, caught up in its acolyte's braids, merged with the image of the overhanging trees until Bel's face peered out from a mask of amber-green. Bel Zhur smiled: the Goddess, reminding her that however strange this world might be, she was still in some way a part of it. But it was no use pretending that this was Irie St Syre, or that she enjoyed the same harmony with this new world as she had done with her own. At least this place was gentler land than the steppe. She had been unprepared for the sense of relief she had felt when she and Shu had crossed the eastern mountains on the previous day and found themselves gliding over this kinder country, leaving the ruins of the city to Sylvian. That relief had been matched only by the first signs of life: the dark tower among the trees with smoke rising from its roof, and then the most wonderful thing of all—a frail unhuman woman reading in an alien orchard. Such an unexpected scene, and yet one that had revived all Bel's hopes for this lost world and her own future.
    But still, how strange, Bel thought for the hundredth time, to leave a world untouched in this way; untended and uncared for, like a garden left to the weeds. She remembered her mother's voice, so calm, so assured, echoing through the gathering hall:
We
'
ve learned from the mistakes we made on old Earth. The air contaminated by pollution, the coasts flooded by rising sea levels and tainted with radiation, everyone forcedunderground or offworld as the atmosphere decayed. That
'
s why our ancestral mothers took such a risk in traveling to Me St Syre, and starting over. It
'
s our duty to make sure we
'
ll never make those mistakes again. If we can
'
t see the world that bore us as sacred, then how can we safeguard the future?
    And then her mother's voice faded, to be replaced by Eve's soft northern voice murmuring:
I
'
ve been dreaming, Bel.
Eve's voice was so vivid that for an instant Bel thought she had really heard it, and she blinked back sudden, sharp tears. Strange to think that Eve's death now lay over a hundred years in the past. It still seemed like yesterday to Bel.
Maybe it always will…
    Shoving the thought away, Bel sat back on her heels and looked warily around her. There were no predators on Irie St Syre, and despite the injury that she had suffered back in the ruins, she was still not used to looking over her shoulder. She rose to her feet and began walking in the direction of the trees, hoping that Mevennen would be there, but the orchard was empty. Bel leaned against the black bark of a gnarled tree and tried not to feel disappointed. But Mevennen had been their first contact—
her
first contact—and Bel had stayed awake for most of the previous night, thinking about her. Mevennen seemed so fragile, so strange; smiling as though she saw things that weren't there.
Like Eve.
    When Bel had learned in the long, numb months following Eve's death that she had been chosen as part of the mission to Monde D'Isle, she had expected many things. In the darkest hours of the night, she had thought the mission might be captured or imprisoned, even killed. During the day, she had permitted herself a few careful fantasies about becoming—well, perhaps not the
savior
of Monde D'Isle, exactly, but certainly part of its history. It seemed a chance to put things right again, a chance for Bel to rise like a phoenix from the wreckage of her own hopes. She had wondered whether she and the others on the mission might be treated as goddesses, marvels, or monsters. But Bel hadnot expected to be treated as though she didn't exist, and she had no idea why Mevennen should think such a thing.
    She was, however, determined to find out; to discover too what Mevennen knew of the ruined city and the demonic image that paced its halls. The image had looked little like