The Dark Lady

smiled. “Don't worry, Leonardo; my ship's sensors would have identified anything dangerous.”
    “It is not a bomb,” I said.
    “Then what is it?”
    I sighed. “I know what it should be. I do not know what it is.”
    “You're not making very much sense, Leonardo,” said Heath. He paused. “Would you like me to open it for you?”
    “No,” I said. “I will open it myself.”
    “What's all the fuss about?” asked Venzia, carrying his plate in from the galley.
    Heath shrugged. “Ask him, ” he said, jerking his head toward me.
    “I did not mean to disturb either of you,” I apologized.
    “Fine,” said Venzia. “Then open the damned thing and let's get the hell off the planet.”
    I turned to Heath. “Perhaps you would prefer to take off first,” I said. “The package can wait.”
    “But I can't,” he replied. “You've made such a mystery of it that I'm not moving until you open it.”
    I sighed, and began unwrapping the box. I had to borrow a cutting instrument from the galley to complete the task, but finally the lid was ready for removal.
    “Go ahead,” urged Heath.
    “In a moment,” I said.
    I paused, took a deep breath, and finally opened the box— and a cry of relief escaped my lips.
    “Are you all right?” asked Heath.
    “Yes, Friend Valentine,” I said happily. “Now I am all right.”
    He peered into the box.
    “What's going on here?” he asked. “It's nothing but dirt.”
    “It is from my Pattern Mother,” I answered.
    “Why would she send you dirt?” persisted Heath.
    “It is soil from the sacred hand of the House of Crsthionn,” I said.
    Venzia seemed to lose interest, and took his meal into the compartment that he was sharing with me.
    “I assume that's a good thing to receive,” remarked Heath.
    “Yes,” I said. “I was afraid that the package might contain something else.”
    “Like what?”
    “ Anything else.” I paused. “Each Bjornn celebrates two holy days, Friend Valentine: the day that his House was created, and the day that his own Pattern was accepted by his House. The first occurred while we were in transit from Acheron; the second will happen, in my case, some thirty-two days from now. Now do you understand?”
    “Not really,” answered Heath. “When we have holidays, we exchange presents, not dirt.”
    “It is not dirt,” I explained. “It is consecrated ground, from the birthplace of the First Mother of the House of Crsthionn, she whose offspring first bred true to her Pattern.”
    “Like holy water for a Catholic,” commented Heath.
    “Holy water is merely symbolic,” I replied. “This is the actual soil.”
    “What do you plan to do with it?” asked Heath.
    “First I must borrow your cutting instrument again.”
    “What for?”
    “I must create a flow of my blood, that I may join my flesh with the sacred soil as a sign of my fealty to the House of Crsthionn.”
    “Are you sure you're not talking about suicide?” he asked suspiciously.
    “No, Friend Valentine,” I replied. “This is a religious ritual.”
    “I thought killing yourself was a religious ritual,” said Heath.
    “This is a more important one.”
    “All right,” he said. “Then what?”
    “Then I must cover my body with the soil.”
    “I suppose there's a reason,” he said dryly.
    “It further symbolizes my union with the First Mother,” I answered. “I must also chant three prayers: one to her, one to the House, and one to the Mother of All Things.”
    “And that's all there is to it?”
    “Then I will remove the soil, after which we must atomize it.”
    “It seems rather counterproductive to get rid of it, if it's so holy,” offered Heath.
    “But I will have polluted it by my touch,” I explained. “Therefore, it will no longer be sacred, but profane, and by obliterating it, I will have purified myself for another year.”
    “What did your people do before they had atomizers?” asked Heath.
    “That was also before we developed space travel, and we returned the soil to the place from which it came. Even today, those of us who remain on Benitarus II usually choose to perform the ritual at the site of the First Mother's birthplace.”
    “Do the women of your race also perform this ritual?” Heath asked curiously.
    “No,” I said. “Why would anyone who is already pure and sacred require such a ritual?”
    “They've got you coming and going, don't they?”
    “I do not understand.”
    “Never mind.” He paused. “Why were you so