Eye of the Comet Page 9

  Reiho stood up. “Of course, we have our mindpowers. The people here can heal themselves of many ailments, so maybe we won’t get too sick.”

  “Don’t talk that way,” she said. Although they were not using mindspeech, undercurrents of thought were still passing between them. Reiho’s cold and dark despair was a strand braided with her brighter, warmer tendrils of anger and fear. “I’m not leaving the shuttle. We can stay here. At least the synthesizer still works.”

  “You’ll have to leave it sometime,” he said mildly. “For one thing, you’ll have to go back to the village.”

  “I’m not going back.”

  “Lydee, think. Whatever happens, it’s clear that we’re trapped here until we do whatever we’re supposed to do.”

  “We don’t even know what that is.”

  “Well, we’ll probably find out soon.”

  “You’re so calm about it all.”

  “You know that’s not true. You can touch my thoughts and see that.”

  She sighed. She was only a tool to be used by some intelligence she could not fully understand. Homesmind, who had raised her and taught her, had probably viewed her from the same perspective as she had viewed microbes when she was learning biology. The people of the Wanderer were, to Homesmind, variations of genetic materials, new combinations of qualities; It determined their characteristics while allowing for novelty and originality. She had sensed the Mindcore’s perspective through her link. It knew their thoughts and watched them live and die while It gathered their knowledge and experience; It had come to surpass them. It might even have been manipulating the cometdwellers for eons toward some distant end only It could glimpse. Earth’s Minds were still more fearsome, for They had apparently surpassed Homesmind.

  “We might not ever get back,” she said.

  “I know.” He seemed resigned. “I suppose I always knew I’d have to come back here after Homesmind restored me, that I’d have to see where I died. It was meant to be.”

  “Stop it. You’re sounding like a superstitious Earthman now.”

  He walked over to her, resting his hands on the ship as he gazed up at her face. “You have to go back to Daiya.”

  “I won’t go.”

  “You have to go. If you don’t, she’ll call out to you, or send someone for you. I’ll go with you, Lydee. It’s time I forced myself to face the village.” He paused. “Or maybe I’m just afraid of staying here alone.”

  “We can’t leave the shuttle. We’ll die without it.”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “You forget — we can move it with our minds. We don’t have the strength to take it away from Earth, but we ought to be able to get as far as the village.”

  She moved aside as he climbed into the craft. The door slid shut as they settled into their seats.

  “Are you ready?” Reiho asked. “This is going to be exhausting work.”

  She nodded. His fear had become a hard, solid mass at the core of his mind; for a moment, she wondered if she was seeing his fear or her own.

  She gripped the arms of her seat, allowing energy to flow into her. The shuttle lifted slightly and began to move in the village’s direction, its runners brushing the grass.

  * * *

  Lydee climbed toward Daiya’s hut, tired by her journey. Even with their combined efforts, she and Reiho had been forced to rest from time to time, and it had taken them most of the day to reach Daiya’s hill. Several villagers had stared at them as they passed the fields, wondering at their desperate need for the vessel and their foolishness in draining themselves of strength to move it there.

  Reiho had decided to remain inside the shuttle, below the hill. She had read his thoughts and knew that his fear of the village was not entirely gone. Now she worried about leaving him alone. Moving the shuttle had not left him much time to think about his fears; alone, with little to do, he would have all too much time to consider his predicament.

  Daiya was sitting outside her hut. A younger, brown-skinned woman with black hair was with her. Lydee could sense the woman’s dislike and raised her mental shield.

  Daiya lifted a hand in greeting. — You shouldn’t have run away — she said, — but I understand why you did. Marellon and Luret showed me what happened to you. You have had a vision —

  — I believe the Minds here spoke to me — Lydee said.

  Daiya frowned; the other woman drew her brows together. — It could not have been the Minds — Daiya said. — They do not speak in that way, sending such images. At least They never did before —

  — I don’t know what else it could have been —

  “So you know more about what happens here than we do, who have lived here all our lives.” The other woman had a low, husky voice; her words were loud and sharp.

  — Whatever it was — Daiya thought, — it was a sign. I see that it has brought Reiho here as well —

  — He had his own vision. A man spoke to him —

  “So now we’ll have two of them inflicted upon us,” the younger woman said.

  — I can mindspeak — Lydee said.

  “I won’t mindspeak to you. I don’t want to have your thoughts poison me. I came here to see you with my eyes and hear you with my ears, but I won’t touch your mind. If you see my thoughts, you will twist them and try to deceive me.”

  “I’ve come here to help,” Lydee said aloud.

  “And exactly what are you going to do?” The woman showed her teeth in a grim smile. “I see that you don’t know. This is your fault, Daiya. You called to them and brought them here.”

  “Who are you?” Lydee burst out.

  “I am Silla AnraBrun.”

  Lydee paused in the middle of removing the pack she was carrying, and let it slide from her shoulders as she sat down. “Then you are my other sister.”

  “I am Daiya’s sister, not yours, and that is enough of a burden.”

  “You’re Lydee’s sister too,” Daiya said.

  “You should not be here, skydweller.” Silla turned toward Daiya. “Tell her what you’ve done to us, with your separateness and your talk of how the world must pass into a new state and shed old ways. Tell her how long I’ve lived with my partner, and how no children come to us.” She glared at Lydee. “And I’m not the only one so cursed. There has been no child born here in almost ten cycles of the seasons. Has she told you that?”

  Lydee glanced at Daiya uncertainly.

  “It’s true,” Silla went on. “Some were born after our time of troubles, while we wrestled with the cursed knowledge Daiya had shown to us, but now there are none. That is a sign, a sign that we are condemned. And now two skydwellers are here. The last time that happened, many died. Now we will all die and leave no children to remember us and maintain our Net.”

  Lydee stared past Silla at the village below, recalling Luret’s sorrow at the mention of children. A man was crossing the meadow, striding toward the hill; she wondered if another villager was coming to berate her.

  “It may not mean that,” Lydee said tentatively, wanting to console the angry woman somehow. “We have few children on the comet, but that only means we have no place for them at this time. When it is necessary, Homesmind will —”

  “I don’t care about your customs,” Silla muttered. “I should have had at least two children by now, and I have none, and others have none. We’ll die out.”

  — You know why you have none — Daiya thought, making her words clear and distinct. — Your anger and fear keep you from conceiving. Rid yourself of poisonous thoughts, and you’ll have your children —

  Silla narrowed her eyes. — That is not the reason for my failure — Lydee tensed; Silla’s thoughts were cold and pointed. — You still have a spell on my partner Harel. You loved him once, and he loved you. Foolishly I thought that was in the past, but even now, he still sees you when he looks at me —

  — You know that’s not true — Daiya said sadly.

  — Do you think I can’t touch his mind? He doesn’t see me, siste
r. He sees what you might have been if you hadn’t grown separate from us — Silla straightened, throwing her shoulders back. — Even now, he approaches. He’ll use any excuse to be near you — Lydee turned her head: the man was climbing the hill toward them.

  — He rejected me, Silla — Daiya thought. — It was not I who turned him away. I can touch Harel’s mind, too. He feels only friendship. The rest was lost long ago —

  — He hides part of himself from me, and has secret thoughts —

  — If you looked inside him with love instead of jealousy and suspicion, you would see that it is you he cares for. He would not hide part of himself from you then —

  Silla’s wall went up as the man came near; Lydee watched him as she put up her own wall again. The man had auburn hair and a short beard; he lifted his hand. Daiya’s face was composed as she greeted him; Lydee could not read her thoughts.

  “Why are you here?” Silla asked without facing him.

  “I wanted to see the skydweller who is your sister.” Silla grimaced as the man gazed at Lydee with kind, blue eyes. “Welcome, young one. I see that you have the look of Daiya on your face.”

  “You will see Daiya in anything,” Silla said harshly.

  A look of pain crossed the man’s face as he knelt next to his partner, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I am Harel KaniDekel,” he said to Lydee. “I wanted you to know that some of us don’t bear you ill will.”

  Lydee nodded.

  “I see,” Silla said. “You have come here to make a fool of me. But there are more who feel as I do.” A wave flowed out from the young woman; the village rippled as if the air itself had been distorted. Lydee flinched under the mental blow and buttressed her shield.

  “No,” Harel said, restraining his partner’s mind.

  “You should have gone far away,” Silla shouted at Daiya. “You thought the Minds under the mountains would save us, but even now They are planning our doom. They could have torn down the wall around us, yet it remains.” She rose; Harel also stood, gripping her hand. “Go back to your world, skydweller. You are no sister of mine.”

  “I can’t go back,” Lydee replied.

  “Then you will die here, too.” Silla shook off Harel’s hand, turned, and strode down the hill.

  Harel held out his arms. “I am sorry,” he said before following his partner. Daiya watched him leave, her face stiff; Lydee sensed her longing before the Earthwoman suppressed it.

  “You should have told me these things,” Lydee said. “You made me think that those in the village would come to accept me.”

  “They don’t all feel as Silla does. Harel doesn’t. My friend Nenla and my cousin Kal do not.”

  “You forget that I can touch your mind. I see that many do.”

  Daiya sighed. — I see that you can no longer speak to Homesmind — she thought. — I know how that pains you. I wish I could help you, but I can’t hear It, either. It spoke to me through a channel the Minds here created for It, but that passage is also closed. That’s why I’m beginning to believe that the Minds here have in fact spoken to you —

  — Maybe not — Lydee responded. — Those outside the barrier might have closed it, and sent an image to deceive me —

  — They probably don’t know you’re here, or what you are. They cannot touch your thoughts, and could not know how to shut off the channel to Homesmind, and they could not act without removing the wall around us. If they had opened the wall, the Merging Selves would have sensed it, and all of the village would have known — Daiya’s reasoning seemed sound, but her thoughts lacked force.

  — You must be right — Lydee said, trying to feel confident.

  — I believed that the Minds under the mountains wanted what was best for us. But perhaps They want only to rule, and don’t care what damage Their power causes —

  — They cannot be so cruel — Lydee objected.

  — They may not think of it as cruelty. They watched many die here and did nothing to stop it. Perhaps They could not, or maybe They simply chose not to act — Daiya walled in her thoughts, but her eyes betrayed her sorrow.

  * * *

  “Reiho?” Lydee said.

  He was squatting in the shuttle’s open door, outlined by its light. Even at night, Earth was awake; an owl was soaring over the meadow below, searching for prey. Lydee tore herself away from the predator’s instinctual thoughts.

  “Daiya will give you a place in her hut to sleep,” Lydee murmured. “She says we should try to follow village ways as much as possible, so that others will grow to trust us.”

  “There’s a more practical reason for doing so. We may have to live that way indefinitely.” Reiho stood up swiftly, rummaged among the shelves and dispenser inside, then threw out two large packs. “We may as well take some supplies with us.” He pulled a black tunic over his head, then put on a pair of dark pants; except for his silver boots, he might almost have passed as a villager.

  As he jumped to the ground, the craft’s door slid shut and its light went out. They began to climb the hill; Reiho sneaked glances at the vehicle, as though expecting it to disappear. Its darkened dome bore a bright slash, a reflection of the comet overhead. We’ll get away, Lydee thought. Even now Homesmind was probably trying to find a way to reach them.

  She took Reiho’s hand as they entered the hut. Daiya was stirring the dying embers of her fire, huddling over it as if performing a rite. Lydee had put a mattress in one corner earlier; she stretched out on it, waiting for Reiho to put away their provisions.

  He lay down beside her. She felt his mental shield enclose his thoughts as he drifted off to sleep. Curling up on her left side, Lydee was about to doze off when she became aware of Daiya’s murmurings.

  — Please help us — Daiya was thinking. — Protect those who have come to help us, and guide us out of our despair — Lydee wondered whom the woman was addressing; Daiya’s thoughts were little more than whispers. — Give us strength, and lead us to the right path —

  Lydee raised her head and leaned on one elbow. Daiya was kneeling by the glowing embers, head bowed; she turned and saw the girl.

  — I am praying — she explained.

  Lydee was silent.

  — Do not scorn me. I know that skydwellers look to the heavens and find no Spirit to watch over us. My faith is weak, but perhaps God will not judge me too harshly if I cling to what little I have. We may need even my prayers — She turned away, bowing her head once more.

  * * *

  The light stabbed her eyes; a shock stiffened her body. Lydee clawed at the air as she heard the screams. Her shield was weakening under the pressure of many minds. Reiho cried out; his arm struck her across the chest.

  “What is it?” he called out.

  Lydee rolled over him, stumbled up, and staggered toward the door, where Daiya stood silhouetted against the pale sky. Lydee struggled to restore her shield before the panic she felt swallowed her. A hand gripped her arm; Reiho was at her side.

  “Something has happened,” Daiya said. Her shield was so strongly buttressed that Lydee could not even mindspeak to her.

  The three hurried outside. The sky beyond the black mountains was the colorless shade that preceded dawn; the village below seemed to be lighted by comets of flame as people ran through the streets with torches. At the edge of one field, several people were milling about near a watchfire, crying out with mind and voice.

  At the center of the village, in the public space, ten giant robed figures stood, their heads towering over the nearest roofs; their arms were as long as the limbs of trees.

  “Awake!” a voice trumpeted, and wind rustled the grassy, thatched roofs. Lydee could hear the voice even at a distance, and sensed it inside of her as well. “You have slept too long. We waited for you to turn to Us, and instead you sought to forget Us. You sleep in fear, dreaming a nightmare that keeps you trapped between your old ways and the new possibilities open to you. Awake!” Other images flickered into existence near the huts and around the
village; these were not giants, but several villagers were throwing themselves before the specters, hiding their faces in the dirt.

  Reiho backed toward the hut. Another figure was taking shape in front of them, becoming a boy with long, black hair and pale, greenish eyes. Daiya cried out, covering her face.

  — Daiya — the boy thought. — Don’t you know me? I am Rin, your brother —

  “I know you!” Daiya peered at him through her fingers. “You’re dead. You died long ago in the desert, during your ordeal. You’re an illusion.”

  — I am not. The Minds speak. You cursed Their silence, and now They answer you. The time of change approaches, and our people still sleep. Awake —

  Another image was forming near Rin; the second specter was a boy in a silver suit. “No,” Reiho whispered. Lydee stepped back on trembling legs and fell to the ground. Reiho was gazing at his former self, the Reiho who had died here.

  “I’m going to die,” Reiho said. “You’ve come to tell me that I’m going to die again.” The ghostly Reiho shook his head, holding out a hand.

  “Rin!” Daiya cried. She reached toward the images, but they were already fading.

  “Awake!” the giants below called out one last time before flickering out. The village was suddenly still. Then Lydee heard one long, low cry as over a thousand minds gave vent to their terror; the cry shattered, stabbing her with a million shards.

  8

  The villagers were crossing the meadow below the hill. A row of young people sat at the edge of the town, watching as the others moved past them. With each step, a few people would drop to the ground, sinking down in the grass, their heads blossoms among the green blades.

  Lydee’s head still hurt; the apparitions had upset her body’s balance. She concentrated on the last vestiges of her pain, pushing them outside of herself. Reiho was staring fixedly at the villagers. Daiya’s mind was silent.