PRAISE FOR KATE ELLIOTT’S JARAN SERIES
“Elliott’s sure-handed and seductive blend of exotic locales, complex interstellar politics, intriguing cultures, realistic romance, and wonderfully realized characters is addictive. I want my next fix!” —Jennifer Robertson, author of the Novels of Tiger and Del
“Sweeps the reader along like a wild wind across the steppes. Tell Kate to write faster—I want to read the whole saga NOW!” —Melanie Rawn, author of the Dragon Prince Trilogy
“[Kate Elliott] spins a splendid web of a tale to trap the unwary and hold them in thrall until the tale is done. Here is another one . . . take care, for if you open these pages you’ll be up past dawn.” —Dennis McKiernan, author of Voyage of the Fox Rider
“A new author of considerable talent . . . a rich tapestry of a vibrant society on the brink of epic change.” —Rave Reviews
“A wonderful, sweeping setting . . . reminds me of C. J. Cherryh.” —Judith Tarr
“Well-written and gripping. After all, with a solidly drawn alien race, galactic-scale politics, intrigue, warfare, even a crackling love story, all set in a fascinating world that opens out onto a vast view of interstellar history, how could anyone resist?” —Katharine Kerr
The Novels of the Jaran
Jaran
An Earthly Crown
His Conquering Sword
The Law of Becoming
Kate Elliott
Contents
Jaran
Author’s Note
The Letter
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Acknowledgments
An Earthly Crown
Author’s Note
Prologue
ACT ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
ACT TWO
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
ACT THREE
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Acknowledgments
His Conquering Sword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
ACT FOUR
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
ACT FIVE
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
The Law of Becoming
PROLOGUE
1
2
PART ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
PART TWO
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
EPILOGUE
1
2
About the Author
Jaran
A Novel of the Jaran
Kate Elliott
For my parents,
who made it all possible,
and for Carol Wolf
who, against all my protests,
made me do it right.
Contents
Author’s Note
The Letter
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Cha
pter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
JARAN NAMES HAVE BEEN transliterated into their Earth equivalencies. For instance, U’rhyinhias (pronounced You-rye-EEN-yas) has been simplified into Yurinya (pronounced You-RHEEN-ya or YOU-rhee). This has proved easier on the eye for those inexperienced in Xenolinguistics, as well as lending a certain flavor to the jaran culture because of this superficial similarity to a well-known archaic Earth language.
“Bodies attract each other with a force that varies directly as the product of their masses and inversely as the square of the distance between them.”
—Isaac Newton
Earth, Nairobi Port
A.L.C. 261 month 5 day 3
Terese Soerensen to Charles Soerensen
Dear Charles,
Please don’t think I’m running away. I really did mean, when I decided to go to Dao Cee system, to visit you on Odys—but I need to be by myself right now, without you trying to give me well-meant advice or telling me that being your heir is just a technicality and that it doesn’t mean that much. Because it’s not true.
Charles, I didn’t tell you that I got engaged six months ago. He insisted that we keep it a secret, and now I know why. Obviously he figured you would see through his “love” for me to his real motives. I made the mistake of telling him that under Chapaliian law a sister loses all right to her brother’s [INSERT: or her father’s] goods and titles upon marriage—that she assumes, totally, her husband’s position. That was one month ago.
One month ago I was still engaged, and I didn’t know that humiliation could help a person do six month’s work in five weeks. I feel sick. I hate myself for being so stupid. And I can’t even tell you his name, because he’s studying Xenodiplomacy at the Sorbonne, and I’m afraid he’ll think I sabotaged his career. He’s one of those men who think women have no honor. Can you understand how I fell in love with him? Because I can’t.
I thought that I had the courage to tell you to your face that I don’t want to be your heir, that I’m sick and tired of people implying that my success at Univerzita Karlova is due to your position and not to my talent, that I’m never seen as myself but only as an extension of you. Can’t I just abdicate being your sister and let you adopt? Or is it only death or marriage that will remove me from your title? Not, of course, that I’m likely to find either situation appealing. God, Charles, I feel like I have no direction, that I can’t trust my own judgment, that I’ve been abandoned in the middle of nowhere. And I hate being melodramatic.
[ERASE DOCUMENT]
Earth, Nairobi Port
A.L.C. 261 .5.3
Terese Soerensen to Charles Soerensen
Dear Charles,
I finished my thesis early (with honors, by the way) and Univerzita Karlova agreed to give me a leave of absence. I’ve let out my flat in Prague and I’m going to visit Dr. Hierakis at the palace in Jeds. I know I don’t have an official clearance for Rhui, but I do have a copy of the preserve regulations, and you know how well I speak Rhuian. I’m going to appropriate a place on the Rhuian cargo shuttle of the next ship headed to the Dao Cee system. I’m thinking of doing my dissertation on one of the Rhuian languages, so I’ll be researching as well. I’m not sure how soon I’ll get to Odys.
Your loving sister,
Tess
Chapter One
“I wept and I wailed when I saw the unfamiliar land.”
—EMPEDOCLES OF AGRAGAS
A SPARK FLEW, SPIRALING upward from the massive frame of the new Port Authority building. Its fiery light winked out against the heavy plastic pane that separated the deep pit of the construction bay from the temporary spaceport offices.
Two young women sat on a padded bench by the huge overlook. One, black-skinned and black-haired, watched the work below. The second, looking pale and light-haired mostly in contrast to her companion, studied the words she had just typed into her hand-held computer slate. She frowned.
“What are you writing, Tess?” asked the first, turning back to her friend. Then she grinned. “Sweet Goddess, what language is that in?”
Tess tapped save and clear and the words vanished. “Just practicing.” She shrugged. “That was late American English. It’s only about 300 years old, so you could probably puzzle it out given time. I built in a translation program. Here’s how the same thing would look in classical Latin.” Words appeared again. “Ophiuchi-Sei.” The letters shifted to a fluid script. “And here’s court Chapalii. Formal Chapalii. And colloquial enscribed Chapalii. You’ll notice how the glyphs differ in written form only in the tails and in the angling of the curve—”
“You are nervous, aren’t you? What if the captain refuses you passage?”
“He won’t refuse,” muttered Tess. She brushed her hand across the screen, clearing it. “And steward class Chapalii of course has no enscribed counterpart at all, so I’ve transcribed it into Anglais characters. What do you think, Soje? It’s an act of rebellion, you know, for stewards to write.”
Sojourner lifted her brows questioningly and glanced out at the new port building rising behind them along alien lines. Along Chapalii lines. “Is that why the chameleons think we humans are barbarians? Because we allow everyone to write?”
Tess laughed. “That doesn’t help. No, because our spoken tongue and written tongue are the same, and a standard. Because we’re too egalitarian. Because we’re so young, as a species, as a culture, compared to them.”
“Because our physiological system is so inefficient, compared to theirs?” Sojourner waved toward the building behind them. “Just like our technology is primitive? I hate them.” She glanced around the waiting chamber. The walls, a muted orange in the fading daylight, curved in at the top; their dullness diminished the thirty meters between the ends of the room. The air smelled of heat and spices: cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom. It was an alien room, designed for the taste of Chapalii, not humans. “No. I don’t hate them. They’ve proven neither cruel nor harsh as our masters.”
“Their grip is soft,” said Tess in an undertone.
Sojourner gave her a sharp glance. “But it chafes,” she replied, quieter still. “Tess, are you sure you really want to go see your brother? Jacques isn’t worth this. He was a spoiled, pretty rich kid who wanted to get ahead without working for it. He’s not worth your running away—”
Tess winced. “I’m not running away. I finished my thesis. I’ve got obligations to Charles now.”
“What about your research? I know you don’t want to follow in Charles’s footsteps. Why go now?”
“Soje, leave be.” The force of her comment silenced both of them. “As if I could follow in his footsteps anyway,” Tess murmured finally.
Sojourner lifted up her hands in defeat. “Goddess, you’re stubborn. Go. Be miserable. Just remember I told you so. You’ve always hated Odys. You always say so, and that one time I went there with you, I can’t say as I blame you. Ugly planet.”
“It wasn’t before the Chapalii got through with it,” said Tess so softly that Sojourner did not hear her.
A chime rang through the room. A seam opened out of orange wall to reveal a nondescript man in police blues. His shoulders shrugged in an exaggerated sigh when he saw them.
“Office is closed,” he said, obviously used to saying that phrase frequently. “And it’s off limits to humans at all times, except for the midday hour if you’ve got a dispensation.” He regarded them, measuring. What he saw, Tess could well imagine: two young women, only a single valise between them, dressed without any particular style that might mark them out as rich enough or important enough to rate a dispensation or otherwise be allowed entrance into the private corridors of humanity’s alien masters.
“If you’ll allow me to escort you out,” he said, firmly but kindly.
Sojourner looked at Tess expectantly. Tess felt frozen. Again it came down to this: retreat with meek dignity, as any other human on Earth would have to, or use her brother’s name like a weapon. How she hated that, having a name that meant something in four languages. Having a name that, through no work of her own, had become so identified with humanity’s one great rebellion against the Chapaliian Empire that the name was now synonymous with that rebellion. Charles had come so early to a realization of what he had to do in his life that surely he could never comprehend her struggle. But she had backed herself into a corner and had no choice but to go forward.
“You must leave,” he said, coming briskly toward them.
“My name is Terese Soerensen,” she said, despising herself as she said it. “My companion is Sojourner King Bakundi.”
The second name did not even register. He stopped stock-still. His face changed. “The Soerensen? You’re his sister?” He hesitated. Then, of course, he looked both abashed and eager. “It is an honor. An honor, to meet you.” She extended her hand and he flushed, pleased, and shook it. “I have a cousin. She fought at Sirin Wild, with the last fleet, on the Jerusalem. She was lucky enough to escape the decompression.”
“I’m glad,” said Tess sincerely. “Where is she now?”
He grinned. “She’s a netcaster now. Ferreting information. For the long haul.”
“For the long haul,” echoed Tess fiercely.
Sojourner murmured, “Amandla.”
A hum signaled a new parting of the wall. The guard, startled, spun to look. One of the ubiquitous Chapalii stewards entered the room. Like all the Chapalii serving class, he wore long, thick pants and a heavy tunic belted at his narrow waist. A hint of green colored the pale skin of his face—a sign of disapproval.