Anne McCaffrey - The Coelura

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The Coelura

by: Anne McCaffrey

“IT IS YOUR EXALTED SIRE, Trin told Lady Caissa in an apprehensive voice. The elderly dresser

bobbed up and down with agitation. “He is dressed for hunting but wishes a word with you.”

“Then it can’t be too serious,” Caissa replied, smiling to reassure the nervous woman.

She threw an opaque wrap about her and strode through the veiled portal to her reception room.

Though her bare feet made little sound in the deep pile of the floor covering, the

athletic figure of her sire whirled from his inspection of a tri-dimensional labyrinth table game

into a hunter’s stance.

Caissa smiled at his reflex and made the obeisance proper for the body-heir of Baythan,

Minister Plenipotential of the Federated Sentient Planets to Demeathorn, fourth planet of the

Star, Cepheus Two

As Baythan straightened from his alert half-crouch, he fiddled unnecessarily with an

armband of stun-darts, a sign to Caissa that her sire had more on his mind than hunting.

“You have, of course, heard that Cavernus Moneor has died. . . .” Baythan turned back

to his scrutiny of the labyrinth.

“And his body-heir is already thinking of an heir-contract?” asked Caissa, accurately

divining the reason for her sire’s fidgets.

“As usual, daughter of my flesh, you are blunt to the point of discourtesy,” Baythan

replied, regarding her with his notable air of censure.

“No discourtesy, noble sire, was intended.”

“None taken, I suppose. I ran a check on the new Cavernus’s genetic patterns and find no

significant recessives that might combine unfavorably with yours.”

Caissa gave her sire a long hard look.

“Cavernus Gustin may be genetically sound, my sire, but he is inept in the hunt to the

point of cowardice and almost incoherent save for the formal phrases which have been dinned into

what he uses for a brain. Even then, he’s apt to come out with inappropriate replies. His haste

is precipitous, his choice distasteful to me.”

“I have certain reasons,” and Baythan drew himself to his full height, a movement that

displayed his superb physique and emphasized a naturally proud mien, “which I cannot at this

juncture reveal even to you, why an alliance with Cavernus Gustin would, in the not too distant

future, be profoundly advantageous. I think I am correct in my belief that you would prefer to

remain on Demeathorn rather than take up the star-hopping life your womb-mother prefers?”

“Have you been reassigned, sire?” asked Caissa, startled by Baythan’s vagueness rather

than his recommendation.

“I have not been recalled-yet,” replied Baythan. Despite his bland expression, Caissa

caught a hint of bitterness in his voice that she had rarely heard. “There is, and I mention this

in the strictest of secrecy,” and Baythan’s urbane smile compounded Caissa’s confusion, “a

possibility that I may satisfactorily complete the mission which first brought me to Demeathorn.”

“As your body-heir, may details of that mission now be imparted to me?” asked Caissa as

indifferently as possible, though every ounce of her slender body tensed with expectation.

“When I have concluded my arrangements, yes. Both you and your womb-mother will know.

Indeed so shall the galaxy!” His voice had a ring of triumph long delayed. Then his tone changed

to the lightly persuasive one that she had heard him use to much advantage and she became wary.

“An heir-contract need last only long enough to produce a healthy child, daughter. Believe me,

when I say,” and his tone became more urgent, “that a small sacrifice today might reap unexpected

rewards . . . tomorrow. However,” and Baythan’s careless gesture of resignation told Caissa

more graphically than any ardent argument how important this proposal was to him, “it will be your

decision, my heir.”

“I shall give the matter my careful consideration, my sire,” she said, bowing her head and

making the submission obeisance with her right hand.

“You’d win this game by playing black to white’s 4S,” he said, making the move on the

labyrinth board and smiling at her with gentle condescension.

In a glance, she saw that Baythan was correct but then, he was as accomplished a

gamesmaster as he was a hunter.

“You have been a joy to me since your conception, daughter Caissa,” Baythan said, stepping

forward and gripping her shoulders. He gave her an unexpected paternal kiss on her forehead.

“My sire,” she said in surprise for demonstrations of affection were rare. This Cavernus

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contract must be exceedingly important. She bowed again, in the full display of filial

acknowledgment, crossing her arms over her breasts, her fingertips touching the body-heir tattoo

that entwined the base of her throat.

She remained in that position until she heard her father departing. Then she raised her

head to see him, with a triumphant swagger to his shoulders, stride through the thick privacy veil

of her reception room.

She exhaled on a deep puzzled note and slowly walked to the air-cushioned lounger,

settling into it with less than her customary grace.

Not much interrupted her sire, she reflected, when he had hunting on his program. That he

had gone so far as to check the genetic pattern of the new Cavernus emphasized his brief visit.

Caissa knew very well that Baythan had rejected several exceptional intra-stellar contracts for

her. Yet, search her mind as deep as she could for the reason behind this extraordinary

recommendation, she could find no valid advantage to an heir-contract with the callow Cavernus

Gustin.

Baythan’s hint that he might culminate his Ministry on Demeathorn was even more startling.

Whatever his mission was, it had drawn the High Lady Cinna of Aldebaran, Caissa’s womb-mother,

back to Demeathorn throughout Caissa’s infancy and childhood. Ostensibly, the High Lady Cinna had

contracted to oversee Caissa’s early training and education.

Part of that training, which included intensive study of the involved contracts of FSP

society--body-heir alliances, heir-contracts, host-child negotiations and other personal service

treaties--suggested to Caissa that the heir-contract between her parents contained an undisclosed

clause. Certainly the Lady Cinna had obliquely referred to contractual defaulters often enough in

Baythan’s presence.

The High Lady Cinna was governor-general of four of the wealthiest planets in the

Federation yet she made time in the star-hopping life that she led to visit Caissa and Baythan to

whom she had inexplicably remained contractually bound.

True, Baythan had an immaculate lineage, descending from the earliest of space pioneers,

an excellent genetic pattern with few recessives. He was a skilled diplomatist, fearless hunter,

deft lover, had impeccable taste in mundane matters of dress, design and art and, Caissa thought

with objective detachment, was the most handsome man on Demeathorn. She knew that highly placed

women frequently made the journey to Demeathorn for the sole purpose of conceiving their body-heir

with him. Caissa’s womb-mother, in a moment of rare intimacy, had remarked that, had she known

Baythan before she had entered her own heir-contract, she might have conceived her first child by

him as well.

It had become expedient in the twenty-second century for the wealthy and important men and

women of the Federated Sentient Planets to ensure that their riches or hereditary positions

remained in a direct, and genetically pure, blood line, secured in the person of one healthy heir-

designate. This heir had to be conceived naturally (by direct copulation) and be physically

perfect at birth, surviving that event by at least three months, or the contract was considered

void.

An intricate tattooed pattern of special inks that could not be duplicated ringed the neck

of every body-heir, displayed as warning as well as defense. The child was inviolate and

protected by the most stringent galactic laws and penalties, thereby eliminating blood feuds,

kidnapping and the presumptive machinations of any greedy sibling of the same parent. Each man

and woman had one body-heir, distinguished by the parent’s tattoo. Of course, man or woman could

produce additional children--(the wealthy woman generally employing a host-mother) and provide for

them as they wished but the one body-heir enjoyed an incontestable position, zealously guarded,

rigidly trained and especially instructed to increase the credit and holdings bequeathed to him or

her. And to perpetuate the physical perfection which was as important a prerequisite for the

monied, titled and intelligent as their credit balance.

Once Caissa’s physical perfection and health had been duly attested and Baythan had

declared her his official body-heir and ordered her tattoo, he had provided a substantial income

for her from investments and businesses on nine other worlds where he had shrewdly placed his own

inherited capital during his various ministries for the Federated Planetary System. The High Lady

Cinna had capriciously bestowed on her womb-daughter rich mineral rights from two planets and

three moons.

Now twenty years old, Caissa knew that she should seriously consider supplying herself

with an heir and, by custom, be guided by her sire’s recommendations. Dutiful though she was to

Baythan’s few requests, Caissa could not in conscience consider any sort of alliance with the new

Cavernus. Baythan had, however, invoked the recollection of a conversation and a subsequent

painful incident with the High Lady Cinna six years ago, the day before Caissa’s fourteenth

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birthday celebration, the day that Caissa had ventured to raise the matter of the private clause.

“So that I may know how to set out the most advantageous contracts and alliances for

myself, Lady Cinna,” Caissa had hastily explained as the Lady gave her an unexpectedly sharp

appraisal.

“You must ask your noble sire about that clause.” A slight, sly smile curled the Lady

Cinna’s delicately tinted lips. “He is in default and I have no wish to embarrass him.”

Since the High Lady Cinna took an outrageous pleasure in doing just that as frequently as

she could, Caissa maintained a bland look of inquiry.

“Be certain, my pet, to ask for the attainable in any negotiations.” The Lady Cinna took

up her hand mirror, checking her elaborate hair style--golden at this season of the year. “I

unwisely erred, one of my few misjudgments. I took the promise for the deed, based on past

accomplishments. Oh, I’m positive that your sire meant well and I thought coelura well worth

waiting for. . . .”

“Coelura?”

“Yes, coelura,” said Lady Cinna brusquely, adjusting a drape of the gossamer fabric that

garbed her. “What else do you think distinguished this wretched little planet with its senescent

troglodytes? Surely you’ve been told of coelura? Ah!” and the Lady Cinna exclaimed in arch

comprehension. “No one at all then has mentioned coelura in your presence?” Her brittle laugh

had made Caissa quiver. “I could well appreciate that certain data had been expunged from public

information but, as your sire’s body-heir, you ought to have been told.”

Immediately after Caissa had been dismissed from Lady Cinna’s presence, she had tried to

remedy her ignorance. Data retrieval would give her no assistance until she obtained official

clearance. That meant that there was information locked in the Blue City’s memory banks.

However, as she was also preparing for her fourteenth birthday celebration at which she achieved

certain privileges and responsibilities, the urgency of acquiring forbidden knowledge was over-

shadowed. The day after that fabulous occasion, the Lady Cinna requested the presence of Baythan

and Caissa and announced that she would leave Demeathorn within the hour.

“I have had more than sufficient of the company in your two pitiful Triadic Cities, and

certainly more than enough of the hunting and fishing which is evidently all this trivial planet

can now boast,” she told Baythan with trenchant scorn. “Until you can fulfill your part of your

contract, I shall return to my duties and obligations on other, better endowed worlds.”

She had held that scornful smile, subtly goading Baythan to protest her accusation of

failure but he had remained silent, grimly pale at her insult.

“And I suppose, failing all else, you will bequeath your quest to your heir,” and the High

Lady turned indolently to smile with arch sympathy on her offspring, “who will undoubtedly make a

competent minister in your place, knowing the planet as well as she does and so sensibly

conditioned for the existence here.”

With a final scathing glance at her mute listeners, she swept from the room in a froth of

fragrant fabric. Her denunciation of Baythan made it impossible for Caissa, unwilling to remind

her sire of that distressing scene, to raise the questions of the unmentioned clause or coelura.

Caissa could, and had, invoked her new rights as a fourteen year old body-heir to the

classified section of Blue City’s Memorax.

“Coelura,” and the display printed reluctantly word by word instead of paragraphic speed,

“a passive ovoid aerial life form once indigenous to the northeastern group of islands known as

the Oriolis group.”

Questioning “Oriolis,” a name Caissa had not previously heard though she knew Demeathorn

quite well, provided more perplexity and less information. The Oriolii were interdicted by the

Triadic Council. For the first time in her carefully tutored life, Caissa recognized that “triad”

meant three and she knew only two cities on Demeathorn, the Blue and the Red. Blue and red are

primary colors.

“Yellow Triad City” elicited the information that there had been a third City, now

abandoned. It had served as a trade and export center for a product no longer available. Yellow

Triad City had been put on minimal care one hundred and twenty years ago. An update line informed

Caissa that the ruins were now considered dangerous even for protected excursions.

Summoning a geographic display of Demeathorn’s large, roughly triangular continent, Caissa

regarded it thoughtfully. Blue Triad City was in the southeastern corner, enjoying quite the best

temperature on its plateau. Red Triad City was in a direct line of flight to the southwest,

situated on the vast bluff that shoved into the western sea. If one considered an equilateral

triangle, the upper tip would put the abandoned city precisely north, again in an elevated

position, overlooking the scattering of islands that staggered northwards, presumably the

interdicted Oriolis group.

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Anne McCaffrey - The Coelura

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