Eye of the Comet (7 page)

  — Yes, you learn well enough — Daiya continued. — But you still hold back too much. Do not fear. You’ll overcome that, too, and it’s wise to restrain yourself a bit — She gazed at Lydee pensively, obviously puzzling over a problem.

  — You want to ask me something — Lydee thought. Daiya nodded. — I’ll find my answer another way — She waved a hand at the desert. — I want to see you fly without your belt. Can you do that? —

  — I can try —

  — Then take it off and let me see you fly — Lydee tensed. — We never remove our belts unless we’re resting. I’ve worn one for as long as I can remember —

  — Do you need it here? Such tools are unnecessary. You have that suit of yours and your powers as well. Why do you need your belt? —

Lydee touched her waist. The belt not only gave her the power of flight, but also helped to pilot her; without it, she might make mistakes. She felt Daiya’s scorn. Even if she fell, she could not be easily hurt; she was being too cautious. She took off the belt, dropping it to the ground as she stood up; the belt curled into a coil.

  — Fly, Lydee —

She lifted herself cautiously, hovering for a moment before flying forward. Turning, she flew toward the mountains, rising until she was nearly as high as the peaks. She spun around and dropped toward Daiya more quickly. The wind shrieked; she squinted, grateful for the lenses that protected her eyes. She shot up suddenly. Daiya had shrunk; the shuttle was a turtle on the ground. Lydee hovered near a rocky cliff. She could peer over the mountains now, catching a glimpse of the green land on the other side.

  — Do not fly too far from me — Daiya’s thoughts were fainter.

  — Shall I return? —

  — Stay aloft for as long as you can —

Lydee dropped, brushing rock with her foot: steadying herself, she fell toward Daiya, twirling in the air as she circled the woman. She was free. She needed no belt, no tools; her mind, and the power that fed it, were enough.

She rose again, going so high that the mountains were soon only a ridge below her, a craggy gray-and-brown barrier separating yellow from green.

  — Come back — Daiya whispered; her thoughts were harder to grasp. — Come back — The words were insistent. Lydee dived, arms out to slow her speed; the ground rushed toward her. Righting herself, she landed on her feet next to the shuttlecraft.

  — You’re still not tired — Daiya murmured.

  — No —

  — You could continue to fly —

  — Yes — Lydee sat down, realizing that Daiya was disturbed.

  — It is as I expected, Lydee. Your body, like Reiho’s, is much stronger than mine. It is strengthened as you grow, isn’t it? —

  — Of course —

  — I could not have stayed aloft as you did without strain. None of us could. Body and mind are one. We must work to strengthen ourselves physically, even doing tasks with our hands that we could do with our minds, so that we don’t grow weak. Though we have the power of the Minds in the pillars to draw on, our bodies can fail us, and we cannot draw on it for difficult tasks without strain. Our old ones have weaker bodies, but since their minds have drawn close, their combined strength and greater skill in using their minds allow them to compensate for the weakness —

  — And my body is stronger — Lydee thought, not sure for a moment if she was thinking her own thoughts or echoing Daiya’s. — That means I can use more power. It means my mind is stronger — She lifted herself from the ground again.

  — Foolish girl — Daiya’s cold thoughts doused her joy; she landed and sat down again. — Unchecked powers can be as dangerous as weak ones. And keep this in mind: We have more experience than you. We have each been tested in an ordeal, and those who did not measure up died —

Daiya’s thoughts were sobering. Homesmind had told Lydee about the ordeal every young person on Earth had to undergo. Boys and girls were sent in small groups away from their villages, deprived of mental contact with anyone except one another. Isolated from the Net of a village for the first time in their lives, their terror became so great that many could not fight it and gave up their lives. Lydee could understand such fear now, away from Home. She would never be able to endure it if she lost her own link with Homesmind and her world.

  — You understand — Daiya said, picking up Lydee’s thoughts.

Do not fear
, Homesmind whispered consolingly.

* * *

Lydee shared some of her food with Daiya, then spent the afternoon learning to lift objects with her mind, beginning with rocks and ending with the shuttle, which she was able to hold in the air for several minutes. Daiya was clearly impressed, but Lydee knew how much she still had to learn.

She offered more food to Daiya that evening as the sky grew purple and the desert air cooled. Daiya seemed tired; she had been forced to restrain Lydee several times, binding her thoughts when the girl grew too daring.

  — You will have to be careful near the village — Daiya thought as she ate. — You’re not used to touching many minds —

Lydee felt apprehensive.

  — I’ll help you — Daiya continued. — You will not have to feel their thoughts all at once. Our sister Silla may come to us, for she’s curious about you in spite of herself, and her partner Harel KaniDekel is my friend — A wall was suddenly around Daiya’s mind, and Lydee could not sense the woman’s feelings.

They finished their meal. Daiya shivered in the mountains’ shadow, then warmed the air around her. Lydee got up, walking east until she came to the invisible barrier, and began to probe it with her mind. Even her thoughts could not penetrate it. She pushed; the barrier was unyielding.

Daiya came to her side. — This wall is not only of thought — she said. — If it were, we could close our minds to it, and be able to walk through it. But those who hold it there have made it a physical barrier as well —

  — A force field — Lydee thought. — Even my ship sensed it when I approached, and could not have flown through it but had to drop inside of it — She paused. — In the shuttle, I could fly over it and land on the other side —

  — That would be unwise. You would be exposed to all the minds outside and might be killed. Your body is strong, but your mind can still be crushed. The wall seals us off, but it also protects us — Daiya sent out a cold wave of fear. — When I think of how many people must be holding it there, I’m afraid. Every mind on Earth must be contributing its force to the wall —

  — Will it stay there forever, then? —

  — We can’t know. Perhaps they are merely guarding themselves from us, and will allow us to live out our lives behind it until we have died out. They may not have to wait long. My village has been afflicted for several cycles. Perhaps I should have called out for help sooner, but I thought we would overcome our incapacities —

Lydee could taste the bitterness in Daiya’s thoughts. — What do you mean? —

Her sister’s shield was up. — You will see soon enough — Daiya turned back toward the shuttle, glaring at the mountains. — And still the Minds do not speak to me. They promised my people a way to live with the knowledge Reiho and I brought to my village. Now They will bring us only death —

Daiya strode toward the shuttle as Lydee hurried after her. — There is another way — she said. — It might be why I was sent here. We could build a home for you in space and take your people there —

  — We can’t live as you do —

  — Homesmind would help — Lydee clung to her notion, which now seemed so obvious an answer.

Daiya shook her head. — You don’t know us. This is our home; we would die away from it. I saw that when Reiho showed me your world —

  — But yours doesn’t have to be like ours —

Daiya stopped and faced her. — You say this only because it would give you a way to flee — Lydee looked down, knowing the woman was right. — You would go back and you would find that the other skydwellers care little about what happens to us. Few would help you — Lydee stepped back, startled. — Oh, yes. You forget that I can see your thoughts clearly. I know how we are regarded by skydwellers. You would run away and console yourself by thinking you had done what you could —

“I am trying to help,” Lydee said aloud, afraid that if she mindspoke, her words would prickle with anger. “You could live on a world so like Earth that you would forget this place. You could strengthen your bodies and have long lives. Why stay?”

  — There are the other villages to consider —  

“Why do you care so much about them when they only want to wall you in?”

  — They would be left in ignorance. They would never learn of the Minds in the pillars, and that it was our ancestors who built Them. They would never understand that separate selves can be given powers, too. It would be evil to separate ourselves from them. Separateness of that kind leads to hatred and death. Reiho taught me that, even if some of his own people have yet to learn it — She looked up at the comet. — It seems he’s forgotten it too —

Lydee wanted to comfort her, but the emotional exchange had overwhelmed her. Raising her wall, she withdrew into herself.

* * *

Lydee stretched, then looked out through her shuttle’s dome. The sun was already peeking over the distant horizon.

Daiya was still sleeping, curled up on the ground outside. Lydee had offered her a place inside the shuttle, but Daiya had refused it; she had at last forced the Earthwoman to accept a blanket. The silvery fabric wrinkled as Daiya began to stir.

A panel in front of Lydee lit up. Stunned, she stared at the Bickering symbols; another shuttle was near. Reiho, she thought wildly.

Yes
, Homesmind said.
Reiho is going to join you after all
. Homesmind’s voice was subdued.

“He’s overcome his fear, then.”

His fear is still with him, Lydee. He requested that I dull it for him, but I cannot do too much without slowing his reflexes. That wouldn’t matter here, but there his mind must be sharp and aware. You will have to be patient with him, and watch out for him with Daiya’s help.

Her joy faded. Her visit would be difficult enough; how could she be responsible for Reiho? Maybe, she thought, he shouldn’t have come.

Perhaps not
. Homesmind replied, answering her thoughts.
But his shame at allowing you to travel to Earth by yourself became greater than his fear. He must live with himself in times to come. I had to let him go.

She clasped her hands together; the symbols before her blurred.

Do not fear. I’ll watch over both of you.

That, she thought resentfully, had not helped Reiho before. She pressed her lips together; she was being unfair. Homesmind had felt pain at Reiho’s death; It was now trying to make up for Its own failure.

The shuttle door opened; she jumped out of the craft. Daiya was standing, clutching at the blanket, looking up at the sky as the dark speck above grew larger.

  — Reiho — she said, picking up Lydee’s thoughts.

The vehicle dropped toward them; its runners were now visible. It landed a few paces away, raising small clouds of dust. Daiya dropped the silver blanket and ran toward Lydee; her thoughts were stormy, clouds of apprehension dimming the glow of anticipation inside her. “Reiho,” she said aloud.

The man stepped from his ship and looked around fearfully. Lydee rushed toward him, then halted, afraid she might overwhelm him with her welcome. “You came after all,” she said as calmly as she could.

“I was afraid I’d turn back. Every moment of the journey, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to go on.” He took her hands. “I’m all right. I don’t know how much help I’ll be — I’m still afraid.”

He was gazing past her at Daiya, who was hanging back. Lydee could not read her mind. She and Reiho had been speaking in their own language, and he had managed somehow to shield his thoughts, but his weak wall was beginning to crumble, and she could sense his agitation. “Close your link,” she said. “You mustn’t let too much power flow in too quickly.”

“Daiya,” he said.

The woman walked toward him and stopped a few paces away. “You are not the same,” she murmured in her own tongue. “Your soul is not that of the Reiho I knew. I see your earlier self, and then a break, and then another’s life. You remember me, but I am only someone you dreamed. Your curiosity is no longer a bright flame but an ember, while your fear has become a claw poised to tear at you. You are not the one I knew, and yet I see part of him inside you.”

Reiho was struggling to shield his thoughts. Lydee felt Daiya’s mind reach out to calm him; the air around him grew cooler. His face changed, looking like a boy’s for a moment. “I can touch your mind, and you can hear my thoughts, but I won’t mindspeak without your consent.” Daiya paused. “Do not fear me, Reiho.”

He stretched out an arm tentatively. Daiya touched his fingers, then withdrew her hand. “We have much to do,” she said briskly. “Now I must teach mindcraft to you as well as to my sister, and I don’t know how much time will be granted to us.” She glanced toward the invisible barrier. “Let us begin.”

6

The wren dipped its curved beak, bowing, then hopped toward Lydee. She held it with her mind. It fluttered up and perched on her outstretched arm; she let it go.

The small brown bird flew out toward the invisible wall. A strand of her mind caught it, directing it away from the barrier. It darted back to the mountain, disappearing behind a boulder.

She was sitting on a rocky shelf. Below her, near the shuttles, Reiho sat with Daiya, lifting dirt and sand with his mind and shaping it into figures. One pillar of dirt became the outline of a man, then turned into a small mound as Reiho released it.

They had been in the desert for nearly two weeks, honing their mental skills. Reiho had struggled at first with the unfamiliar abilities; because he was older than Lydee, he had been more set in his ways, more hesitant to try his powers. Lydee, on the other hand, had needed to develop more caution; there were still times when she would show off, keeping her shuttle in the air for hours at a time while she hovered near it, testing the limits of her body and mind. They could make a game of their mindpowers now, but she did not know how well they would handle a meeting with the village. Even Daiya’s gentle probing often seemed intrusive.

Homesmind rarely spoke to them. It was still observing Earth through her eyes and Reiho’s, but she was beginning to feel isolated both from It and from the comet. The longer she stayed here, the harder it would be to return.

Reiho and Daiya were now communing silently. Lydee had glimpsed how he saw the woman; when Reiho gazed at Daiya, her face was smoother and her body more taut, for he saw the girl his former self had known, and Daiya often saw him as a boy. Lydee, unwilling to disturb the illusion their minds created, occasionally saw them that way, too. Deep currents flowed between the two that even they seemed unwilling to acknowledge. Reiho would always shy away from strong feelings, and Daiya still held part of herself back.

Daiya had told them of her hopes for Earth, of how those born as solitaries might be saved and taught. She would need the cometdwellers’ help then, for the weak ones would need implants to strengthen their minds. Lydee frowned. Homesmind could provide the tools for that work; surely she and Reiho would have left Earth by then. She was thinking too far ahead; the wall around them still held.

She stood up, lifted herself, and flew toward the wall, soaring easily through the warm air. Daiya was concentrating on Reiho’s thoughts; Lydee would be free to attempt what she had been wanting to try. Landing in front of the barrier, she steadied herself, then aimed her thoughts.

The wall remained, as she had expected. She summoned more power, directing it at a space near her head, pushing against the field. Her mind hummed; dirt lifted around her feet. She called on all her strength; pain shot through her temples, almost disabling her.

A point glowed on the wall, becoming a small circle. Already she was growing weak from the effort. The glow expanded; a bit of the wall suddenly gave way.

A gust of wind tore at her ankles. She fell to the ground and lay on her back, unable to move, waiting for her strength to return.

A shadow fell across her face. Daiya was standing over her, Reiho at her side. — What are you doing? —

“I did it.” Lydee sat up slowly, too exhausted to mindspeak. “I moved the wall a little, I could feel it. It took all my strength, but I almost tore a hole in it.”

  — You foolish girl — Daiya dragged her to her feet. Lydee staggered, almost too weak to stand. — Do you want to draw their wrath? —

“I’ve shown that the wall can be breached.”

  — I see that you’re proud of your great strength, but you cannot tear it down alone —

“Others could help me. Are you content to live behind it forever?”

  — Those outside may feel safe from us now — Daiya replied, — but they won’t if you assault the wall. They will only make it stronger —

  — They cannot keep it up indefinitely — Reiho said.

Daiya shook her head. — I don’t know. They must be drawing on most of their strength now, and that will weary them. But there are many of them. Some will sustain it while others rest —

  — Perhaps you should do something besides wait — Lydee thought; she was recovering her strength. — We could add our minds to yours, and then —

  — Break the wall? — Daiya’s thoughts stung. — And then what? Are you willing to face death? Do you want Reiho to face it again? —

Lydee spun around and strode toward the shuttles. Daiya’s passivity was beginning to annoy her. — You’ll endanger us — Daiya continued as she came up to the girl’s side. — Your carelessness will bring harm. Reiho’s fear will seize him, and you’ll be free to run away in your craft while we’ll be left to face the consequences of your actions. And you might not get away. You might be torn from the sky —

  — Stop! — Lydee cried out as she turned. Daiya tensed; Reiho, behind her, looked pained. She had given the word too much force. That was what came of sharing thoughts, Lydee said to herself; too many strong feelings were released, however much she struggled for control.

  — Reiho overcame his fear to come here — she continued. — You should not remind him of his terrors. And I am trying to help you —

Daiya was silent for a moment; her mind’s tendrils curled inward. — You are right — she said at last. — But heed me. You have both learned quickly, but this is my world, and you must take my advice. You, Lydee, are still a child. Don’t feel so resentful, I’m only stating a fact. You must let me guide you —

Lydee did not reply. Reiho was shielding his thoughts.

  — Perhaps you have shown me something important — Daiya said more gently. — If a hole can be torn in that wall, we may find a way to destroy it. But until we know what those outside will do, it is wiser not to act —

  — But we’re cut off from their thoughts — Lydee said. — You can’t know what they’re planning —

  — Be patient. Your power can injure those you are trying to help — Daiya was directing her thoughts only to Lydee as Reiho climbed into the craft to fetch food. — Reiho was not the only one who died when I was trying to protect him long ago. Many in my village died, struck down by their despair when they saw that the world was not what they believed it to be. I’ll carry that guilt for the rest of my life. You would not want to have that burden —

Lydee sat down. Reiho came to her and handed her some fruit; she ate without tasting it. He was nibbling at his own food, as if forcing himself to eat. The wind sang mournfully; she caught the icy thoughts of a lizard, so rooted to instinct that they were hardly thoughts at all.

  — We have worked here long enough — Daiya said as she ate. — We must go to the village now —

Reiho seemed pained. “I can’t,” he said aloud.

Daiya glanced at him. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Open your mind and let me see. You knew we would have to go there.”

“You know what I mean without seeing my thoughts. I’ve come this far, but I’m not ready for that.”

“Am I to leave you here? Or are you going to go back to the sky?”

“Please try to understand. My former self died there, and I’m still afraid to face it.”

“The village won’t harm you now.”

“They killed my former self.”

“What are you going to do, then?” Daiya was restraining herself; Lydee could feel the woman’s urge to rip at Reiho’s mental wall.

“I can come with you part of the way. You’ll still be able to send your thoughts out to me. I need time to overcome this last vestige of my fear — surely you can see that. I must prepare myself.”

  — Very well — Daiya said with her mind. — But if you cannot grow braver in a little while, it might be best if you left Earth entirely. My people can’t trust you if you don’t trust them — The woman was trying to cloak her disappointment with compassion.

Lydee swallowed. She would see the place where she might have lived and the people who had turned her away.

* * *

The shuttle landed at the bottom of a hill. Daiya climbed out, glancing skeptically at the craft; she still distrusted the vehicle and had kept her eyes closed during most of the journey, opening them only when they were near the village.

Lydee hung back, checked her pack, then pulled at the sleeves of her brown shirt. Daiya had insisted that she wear a shirt and pants over her silver suit, telling Lydee that the clothes would make her look more human. She put on her pack and climbed out.

To the east, the mountains jutted toward the sky. Reiho was near the foothills, too far away to be seen; she began to wish she had stayed with him. Daiya motioned to her; Lydee followed the woman up the hill.

Daiya’s hut, made of mud bricks, was at the top of the slope in a grove of trees. As Lydee neared it, she could glimpse the village beyond. A grassy expanse separated the village from the hill; she could now imagine, even without touching Daiya’s thoughts, how cruel her exile must have been. She had lived here on this hill, able to watch the community without being able to share in its life except as a visitor, knowing that no other village would give her a home. Even absolute solitude might have been easier to bear.

The village’s huts stood in concentric circles surrounding an open space. Several people had gathered in the space; she thought she saw a few of them glance toward the hill. Others were on the riverbank, dipping buckets into the water. Ditches ran from the river to the fields bordering the town; villagers were laboring among the wheat and corn. Lydee cautiously let out a tendril, wary of being swamped by hundreds of thoughts, but the village remained silent. The Earthfolk had apparently decided to shield themselves from her, and she sensed only the weaker, more indirect thoughts of their hens, pigs, dogs, and cats.

  — Don’t expect them to reach out to you right away — Daiya thought. Lydee took off her pack, and Daiya dropped it inside the doorway other hut. — I must go into the village now. You’ll be all right here, won’t you? —

Lydee nodded.

  — Marellon and Luret will stay here for the night, outside my hut, so you won’t be alone. I must speak with our Merging Selves — She turned and walked down the slope toward the village.

The Merging Selves. Lydee’s mind curled tightly around that thought. The Merging Selves were the older villagers, people who mingled their thoughts so freely that at times they were almost one mind. She wondered how a person could endure such a loss of the self. It seemed a kind of death, yet all Earthpeople aspired to such a state and wanted to live long enough to become Merging Selves.

Lydee sat down, feeling disappointed. She had expected more of a reception; she was, after all, from another world, a transformed child of the village, yet they still shunned her. They might be hoping she would leave.

She turned toward the doorway, peering inside the hut. The dim light revealed blackened bits of wood inside a circle of stones in the center of the dirt floor. There were openings between the walls and the grass roof, shelves of earthen pots and bowls, and a reed mat. Even with her own supplies, she was likely to be uncomfortable at best; Daiya was expecting her to stay in the hut rather than in the shuttle, presumably to demonstrate to the village how like them she was.

I can’t stay here, she thought. The village seemed to alter as she gazed at it, becoming shabby and mean. The bright afternoon sun dimmed, the river became brown and muddy, the fields overgrown. Daiya, striding away below, was an aging, worn woman too stubborn to give up her hard life for the ease the cometdwellers could offer. Lydee shook her head. Her mind shaped what she saw here; she wondered if she could actually see the village as it really was.

An invisible hand touched her shoulder. She tensed. A glow had appeared inside the hut. Standing, she crept through the doorway, then wondered if she should call for help. Another mind was touching hers; she put up her wall.

Her mental barrier suddenly shattered into shards of light.

Lydee gasped, staggering back against a wall. The glow brightened; her mind was humming with voices. She tried to run, but her legs would not move.

The brightness dimmed. A golden-haired woman in a long, blue robe stood before her. Lydee struggled; invisible arms were holding her.

“Who are you?” she cried, forgetting to speak with her mind. — Who are you? — she said again.

The woman smiled, holding out a hand. Lydee reached for her; her hand passed through the woman’s arm. She pulled back. — Are you from the village? Are you someone’s image sent to greet me? —

  — I am not — The thought was strong; Lydee’s link trembled.

  — Then you’re from another village — That would mean that the barrier had been breached; she shook with fear.

  — I am not —

  — Who are you, then? —

Inside her, Homesmind whispered,
I know what you are
.

  — I am one who once lived — the woman replied. — My body is now dust. I speak to you first, because you are from another place. Prepare yourself. I see a time approaching when change will at last come to this village and to those outside it, and you are a tool of that change. Strengthen yourself. Purge yourself of anger, no matter what you may see. Open your mind to compassion and understanding, for they may be the weapons you will need. Remember that a mind striking out in rage will wound itself as well as its target. Forget your fear —

I know what you are
, Homesmind said again.

  — Silence, young Mind. Her ordeal approaches, and she must go to her fate without Your aid — The woman faded, then flickered out.

Lydee crumpled to the dirt floor. — Homesmind —

There was no answer.

“Homesmind!” Her channel would not open; something was wrong with her link. “Homesmind!” She was cut off from the comet, unable to transmit; she wondered if Homesmind could still hear her.

  — It will observe — the woman’s voice said inside her. — But It cannot answer your call. You must rely on yourself —

“Restore my link!”

  — You have your mindpowers. You do not need anything else —

“Don’t leave me like this!” She waited, expecting to hear the voice again, but her mind was silent now. Leaning over, she held her stomach, afraid she would be sick. An ordeal, the woman had said. She would never be able to endure it. “Homesmind,” she whispered.