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  A Song for Lya

by George R.R. Martin

ElectricStory.com, Inc.®

A Song for Lya

past George R. R. Martin

Two telepaths investigate the newly discovered world of Shkea, where every native inhabitant, and an increasing number of human colonists, worships a mysterious and deadly parasite. Winner of the 1975 Hugo Honor for Best Novella.

THE Glass FLOWER

Copyright © 1974 past George R. R. Martin. All rights reserved.

Original Publication: Analog Science Fiction/Scientific discipline Fact, June 1974.

Ebook edition of "A Song for Lya" copyright © 2005 by ElectricStory.com, Inc.

ePub ISBN: 978-one-59729-060-nine

Kindle ISBN: 978-1-59729-036-4

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This novella is a work of fiction. All characters, events, organizations, and locales are either the production of the author'southward imagination or used fictitiously to convey a sense of realism.

Cover art by and copyright © 2005 Cory and Catska Ench.

Original Ebook conversion by ElectricStory.com, Inc.

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A Song for Lya

By George R. R. Martin

The cities of the Shkeen are one-time, older far than homo'southward, and the great rust-cherry city that rose from their sacred loma country had proved to be the oldest of them all. The Shkeen city had no name. Information technology needed none. Though they built cities and towns past the hundreds and the thousands, the hill city had no rivals. It was the largest in size and population, and it was lone in the sacred hills. It was their Rome, Mecca, Jerusalem; all in 1. It was the city, and all Shkeen came to it at last, in the final days before Matrimony.

That urban center had been ancient in the days before Rome barbarous, had been huge and sprawling when Babylon was still a dream. But at that place was no feel of age to information technology. The homo middle saw merely miles and miles of low, red-brick domes; small hummocks of dried mud that covered the rolling hills like a rash. Inside they were dim and about airless. The rooms were small and the furniture crude.

Yet information technology was not a grim city. Day after day it squatted in those scrubby hills, broiling under a hot sunday that sabbatum in the sky like a weary orange melon; but the city teemed with life: smells of cooking, the sounds of laughter and talk and children running, the bustle and sweat of brickmen repairing the domes, the bells of the Joined ringing in the streets. The Shkeen were a brawny and exuberant people, almost childlike. Certainly there was cypher about them that told of great age or ancient wisdom. This is a immature race, said the signs, this is a culture in its infancy.

But that infancy had lasted more than than xiv one thousand years.

The homo city was the real baby, less than ten Earth years old. Information technology was built on the edge of the hills, between the Shkeen metropolis and the dusty brown plains where the spaceport had gone up. In human terms, it was a beautiful city: open up and blusterous, full of graceful archways and glistening fountains and wide boulevards lined past trees. The buildings were wrought of metal and colored plastic and native woods, and virtually of them were low in deference to Shkeen compages. Almost of them . . . the Administration Tower was the exception, a polished blue steel needle that split a crystal sky.

You could see it for miles in all directions. Lyanna spied it even before nosotros landed, and we admired it from the air. The gaunt skyscrapers of Sometime Earth and Baldur were taller, and the fantastic webbed cities of Arachne were far more beautiful—just that slim blue Tower was still imposing enough as it rose unrivaled to its lone dominance to a higher place the sacred hills.

The spaceport was in the shadow of the Tower, like shooting fish in a barrel walking distance. But they met the states anyway. A low-slung ruby-red aircar sat purring at the base of the ramp as we disembarked, with a driver lounging confronting the stick. Dino Valcarenghi stood side by side to it, leaning on the door and talking to an aide.

Valcarenghi was the planetary administrator, the boy wonder of the sector. Young, of form, merely I'd known that. Short, and good-looking, in a night, intense way, with blackness pilus that curled thickly against his head and an easy, genial smiling.

He flashed u.s.a. that grinning and so, when we stepped off the ramp, and reached to shake easily. "Hi," he began, "I'm glad to come across you lot." There was no nonsense with formal introductions. He knew who we were, and we knew who he was, and Valcarenghi wasn't the kind of man who put much stock in ritual.

Lyanna took his hand lightly in hers, and gave him her vampire look: big, dark eyes opened wide and staring, sparse mouth lifted in a tiny faint smile. She'southward a minor girl, almost waiflike, with brusk chocolate-brown hair and a child's effigy. She can look very delicate, very helpless. When she wants to. But she rattles people with that look. If they know Lya'southward a telepath, they figure she's poking effectually amongst their innermost secrets. Actually she'south playing with them. When Lyanna is actually reading, her whole body goes stiff and you can nigh see her tremble. And those big, soul-sucking eyes become narrow and hard and opaque.

Simply non many people know that, and so they squirm under her vampire optics and await the other way and bustle to release her hand. Not Valcarenghi, though. He just smiled and stared back, then moved on to me.

I was reading when I took his hand—my standard operating procedure. Also a bad habit, I estimate, since it'south put some promising friendships into an early grave. My talent isn't equal to Lya's. Only it'due south not as demanding, either. I read emotions. Valcarenghi'south geniality came through potent and genuine. With nil behind it, or at least nix that was close enough to the surface for me to catch.

Nosotros besides shook easily with the aide, a middle-aged blond stork named Nelson Gourlay. Then Valcarenghi ushered everybody into the aircar and we took off. "I imagine you're tired," he said after nosotros were airborne, "so we'll save the bout of the urban center and head direct for the Tower. Nelse will show you lot your quarters, then you can bring together us for a drink, and we'll hash out the problem. You lot've read the materials I sent?"

"Yes," I said. Lya nodded. "Interesting background, but I'm non sure why we're hither."

"Nosotros'll become to that soon enough," Valcarenghi replied. "I ought to be letting you enjoy the scenery." He gestured toward the window, smiled, and roughshod silent.

So Lya and I enjoyed the scenery, or as much as we could enjoy during the five-minute flight from spaceport to tower. The aircar was whisking downward the main street at treetop level, stirring up a cakewalk that whipped the thin branches every bit we went by. Information technology was cool and nighttime in the interior of the machine, simply outside the Shkeen dominicus was riding toward noon, and yous could come across the oestrus waves shimmering from the pavement. The population must have been inside huddled effectually their air-conditioners, because we saw very little traffic.

We got out most the primary entrance to the Tower and walked through a huge, sparkling-clean entrance hall. Valcarenghi left us so to talk to some underlings. Gourlay led u.s. into 1 of the tubes and we shot up fifty floors. Then we waltzed by a secretary into some other, private tube, and climbed some more than.

Our rooms were lovely, carpeted in cool dark-green,

and paneled with wood. In that location was a consummate library in that location, mostly Earth classics bound in synthaleather, with a few novels from Baldur, our home world. Somebody had been researching our tastes. One of the walls of the bedroom was tinted glass, giving a panoramic view of the city far below u.s., with a control that could darken it for sleeping.

Gourlay showed it to us dutifully, similar a dour bellhop. I read him briefly though, and found no resentment. He was nervous, just only slightly. In that location was honest affection there for someone. U.s.? Valcarenghi?

Lya sat down on one of the twin beds. "Is someone bringing our baggage?" she asked.

Gourlay nodded. "You lot'll be well taken care of," he said. "Annihilation you want, enquire."

"Don't worry, we volition," I said. I dropped to the second bed, and gestured Gourlay to a chair. "How long yous been here?"

"6 years," he said, taking the chair gratefully and sprawling out all over information technology. "I'm one of the veterans. I've worked nether 4 administrators now. Dino, and Stuart before him, and Gustaffson earlier him. I was even under Rockwood a few months."

Lya perked upwardly, crossing her legs under her and leaning forward. "That was all Rockwood lasted, wasn't it?"

"Correct," Gourlay said. "He didn't similar the planet, took a quick demotion to assistant administrator someplace else. I didn't care much, to tell the truth. He was the nervous type, e'er giving orders to bear witness who was boss."

"And Valcarenghi?" I asked.

Gourlay made a grinning wait like a yawn. "Dino? Dino's OK, the all-time of the lot. He's skilful, knows he'southward expert. He's only been here two months, but he's gotten a lot washed, and he'south made a lot of friends. He treats the staff like people, calls everybody by his first name, all that stuff. People similar that."

I was reading, and I read sincerity. It was Valcarenghi that Gourlay was affectionate toward, then. He believed what he was saying.

I had more questions, just I didn't get to ask them. Gourlay got up suddenly. "I actually shouldn't stay," he said. "You desire to residuum, right? Come up to the top in about two hours and we'll go over things with you. Yous know where the tube is?"

We nodded, and Gourlay left. I turned to Lyanna. "What do y'all think?"

She lay back on the bed and considered the ceiling. "I don't know," she said. "I wasn't reading. I wonder why they've had so many administrators. And why they wanted us."

"We're Talented," I said, smiling. With the uppercase, yeah. Lyanna and I have been tested and registered equally psi Talents, and we have the licenses to prove information technology.

"Uh-huh," she said, turning on her side and smile dorsum at me. Not her vampire half-grinning this fourth dimension. Her sexy little girl smile.

"Valcarenghi wants us to get some rest," I said. "It'southward probably non a bad thought."

Lya bounced out of bed. "OK," she said, "only these twins have got to get."

"We could push them together."

She smiled again. We pushed them together.

And we did go some sleep. Somewhen.

Our luggage was outside the door when nosotros woke. Nosotros changed into fresh clothes, old casual stuff, counting on Valcarenghi'south notorious lack of pomp. The tube took u.s.a. to the peak of the Tower.

The office of the planetary ambassador was inappreciably an part. At that place was no desk, none of the usual trappings. Just a bar and lush bluish carpets that swallowed us ankle high, and six or 7 scattered chairs. Plus lots of infinite and sunlight, with Shkea laid out at our feet beyond the tinted glass. All four walls this fourth dimension.

Valcarenghi and Gourlay were waiting for us, and Valcarenghi did the bartending chores personally. I didn't recognize the beverage, only it was cool and spicy and aromatic, with a real sting to it. I sipped it gratefully. For some reason I felt I needed a lift.

"Shkeen wine," Valcarenghi said, smiling, in answer to an unasked question. "They've got a name for information technology, but I can't pronounce it yet. But give me time. I've simply been here two months, and the language is crude."

"Yous're learning Shkeen?" Lya asked, surprised. I knew why. Shkeen is rough on human tongues, just the natives learned Terran with stunning ease. Most people accepted that happily, and just forgot about the difficulties of cracking the conflicting linguistic communication.

"It gives me an insight into the way they call back," Valcarenghi said. "At least that's the theory." He smiled.

I read him again, although it was more than hard. Physical contact makes things sharper. Again, I got a simple emotion, close to the surface—pride this fourth dimension. With pleasure mixed in. I chalked that upwardly to the wine. Nothing beneath.

"All the same yous pronounce the drink, I similar information technology," I said.

"The Shkeen produce a broad variety of liquors and food-stuffs," Gourlay put in. "We've cleared many for export already, and we're checking others. Market should be good."

"You'll have a chance to sample more of the local produce this evening," Valcarenghi said. "I've set up a tour of the metropolis, with a stop or two in Shkeentown. For a settlement of our size, our nighttime life is fairly interesting. I'll be your guide."

"Sounds skillful," I said. Lya was smiling too. A tour was unusually considerate. Most Normals experience uneasy around Talents, so they rush us in to do whatever they want done, and so rush us out again every bit quickly as possible. They certainly don't socialize with u.s.a..

"Now—the problem," Valcarenghi said, lowering his drink and leaning forward in the chair. "You read about the Cult of the Wedlock?"

"A Shkeen religion," Lya said.

"The Shkeen religion," corrected Valcarenghi. "Every ane of them is a believer. This is a planet without heretics."

"We read the materials you sent on information technology," Lya said. "Along with everything else."

"What do y'all recollect?"

I shrugged. "Grim. Archaic. But no more any number of others I've read almost. The Shkeen aren't very advanced, after all. At that place were religions on One-time Earth that included human sacrifice."

Valcarenghi shook his caput, and looked toward Gourlay.

"No, y'all don't understand," Gourlay started, putting his drink down on the carpeting. "I've been studying their faith for half dozen years. It's like no other in history. Nothing on Erstwhile Earth like it, no sir. Nor in any other race we've encountered.

"And Union, well, it's incorrect to compare it to human sacrifice, just incorrect. The Old World religions sacrificed one or two unwilling victims to gratify their gods. Killed a handful to get mercy for the millions. And the handful generally protested. The Shkeen don't piece of work it that way. The Greeshka takes everyone. And they go willingly. Like lemmings they march off to the caves to be eaten alive by those parasites. Every Shkeen is Joined at forty, and goes to Final Union earlier he's fifty."

I was dislocated. "All right," I said. "I see the distinction, I gauge. But so what? Is this the problem? I imagine that Spousal relationship is rough on the Shkeen, just that's their business. Their religion is no worse than the ritual cannibalism of the Hrangans, is it?"

Valcarenghi finished his drink and got up, heading for the bar. Equally he poured himself a refill, he said, almost casually, "As far as I know, Hrangan cannibalism has claimed no human converts."

Lya looked startled. I felt startled. I sat up and stared. "What?"

Valcarenghi headed back to his seat, drinking glass in hand. "Human converts have been joining the Cult of the Wedlock. Dozens of them are already Joined. None of them take achieved full Matrimony however, but that's only a question of time." He sat downward, and looked at Gourlay. So did we.

The gangling blond adjutant picked upwardly the narrative. "The first convert was about vii years ago. Near a yr before I got hither, two and a half after Shkea was discovered and the settlement built. Guy named Magly. Psi-psych, worked closely with the Shkeen. He was it for two years. Then another in '08, more the adjacent year. And the rate's been climbing ever since. There was one big ane. Phil Gustaffson."

Lya blinked. "The planetary administrator?"

"The same," said Gourlay. "We've had a lot of administrators. Gustaffson came in after Rockwood couldn't stand it. He was a big, gruff old guy. Everybody loved him. He'd lost his wife and kids on his last assignment, but you'd never take known it. He was ever hearty, full of fun. Well, he got interested in the Shkeen religion, started talking to them. Talked to Magly and some of the other converts too. Even went to come across a Greeshka. That shook him up real bad for a while. But finally he got over it, went back to his researches. I worked with him, but I never guessed what he had in mind. A petty over a year ago, he converted. He'south Joined now. Nobody's always been accepted that fast. I hear talk in Shkeentown that he may fifty-fifty exist admitted to Concluding Marriage, rushed right in. Well, Phil was administrator here longer than anybody else. People liked him, and when he went over, a lot of his friends followed. The charge per unit's way upwardly now."

"Not quite one percent, and rise," Valcarenghi said. "That seems low, but remember what it means. One per centum of the people in my settlement are choosing a religion that includes a very unpleasant form of suicide."

Lya looked from him to Gourlay and back again. "Why hasn't this been reported?"

"It should have been," Valcarenghi said. "But Stuart succeeded Gustaffson, and he was scared stiff of a scandal. There's no police force against humans adopting an alien organized religion, and then Stuart divers information technology every bit a nonproblem. He reported the conversion rate routinely, and nobody higher up ever bothered to make the correlation and remember merely what all these people were converting to."

I finished my drink, set information technology down. "Go on," I said to Valcarenghi.

"I ascertain the situation every bit a problem," he said. "I don't intendance how few people are involved, the idea that human beings would allow the Greeshka to eat them alarms me. I've had a squad of psychs on information technology since I took over, but they're getting nowhere. I needed Talent. I want yous two to notice out why these people are converting. Then I'll exist able to deal with the situation."

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