Eye of the Comet (9 page)

  — 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.

Those leading the group had white, silver, or gray hair; their bodies were stooped, and a few were leaning on long sticks as they hobbled forward. More people sat down; Lydee recognized Silla and Harel. Marellon and Luret were sitting with a red-haired woman and a dark-haired man.

“They only want to see you,” Daiya said. “The Minds have spoken, and my people must now try to reach out to you. You won’t be harmed.” Lydee wondered how the woman could know that; all of the villagers were concealing their thoughts.

Reiho was tense. Lydee could see his thoughts clearly enough; he was remembering death, recalling the time when the villagers had come for him. He looked back at the shuttle, which was still safely at the bottom of the hill, then turned toward the meadow. Most of the village was seated there now, waiting.

Only five people were climbing the hill toward them. “That is Cerwen,” Daiya said, gesturing at the tall, broad-shouldered man in the front. “He’s the oldest of the Merging Selves, and the rest of our people will see you through his eyes. He is also our grandfather.”

The old man’s gray hair was stiff and wiry; a gray beard hid the lower part of his dark-skinned face. Lydee’s mental tendrils wound tight, becoming knots. Cerwen had ordered his granddaughter Daiya away from the village, had condemned her to a lonely life on this hill; what mercy would he show to another granddaughter who had become a skydweller? She sat still, legs folded, afraid to look directly at the man and apprehensive about meeting him in Reiho’s presence.

Those with Cerwen also showed signs of age. One of the women had thick streaks of white in her dark-brown hair, while the man with her was round, with sagging jowls. The signs of age on Daiya had been disturbing enough; with a shock, she realized that none of these Earthpeople could be even as old as Etey.

The small group drew near. Cerwen surveyed Reiho briefly, then gazed more intently at Lydee. She was suddenly sure that he had grasped all of her thoughts in an instant. He sat down; the others sank down beside him.

  — We are the Merging Selves — he said, and she knew that he did not mean only the four with him, but also many of those below on the grassy plain. The thoughts were not his alone, but all of theirs as well; Cerwen was only one aspect of the village, his individuality an illusion. She shivered. — I am Cerwen IviaRey, your grandfather, though I never thought to see you in this world, or even in the next — These words were not as forceful as his first statement.

  — Greetings — she said, feeling how feeble her mind was next to his.

  — These are other Merging Selves, whose thoughts I share. This woman is Leito SeyiNen — He waved at the slender woman with the white-streaked brown hair; her large eyes were as green as Luret’s. Lydee sorted through what she knew of Luret’s relations and saw that this woman had to be one of them. — And this man is Morgen BianZeki — Cerwen gestured at the pudgy man, who squinted at Lydee with his small, dark eyes. — They, too, are your grandparents, for their child is your mother. She is with us as well. She is Anra LeitoMorgen, and her partner is your father and my son, Brun RillaCerwen. It is strange for me to think of them in separate guises, for we have drawn close —

She glanced at the younger couple, who sat a bit apart from the others as though they had not merged so completely with them. Anra LeitoMorgen was as slender as her mother Leito, but her dark hair had only a few strands of white and her pretty face was smooth. Brun RillaCerwen was a short, stocky version of his father. Lydee could see herself in him, the same brown skin, the same brown eyes.

She fidgeted uneasily. Were they waiting for her to show joy at the encounter? Anra and Brun were only two people who had wanted her to die and had considered her birth an unfortunate event. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried not to think of how she had been born.

Cerwen watched her calmly, seeming to be as patient as a cometdweller with centuries of life in which to speak. These people meant nothing to her; in spite of their shared genes, they were only strangers, other villagers. To them, she was alien, a skydweller who needed a link in order to share her mind with them.

  — That is true — the five said in unison. — It is not only blood that forms the ties of family, but also love and shared experience. Do not fear. We shall ask no more of you than we would of your companion —

  — What do you want? — Lydee asked.

  — We have spoken to manifestations of the dead — all of them answered through Cerwen.

  — I saw my brother Dal — Anra said.

  — I saw my mother Rilla — Brun said.

  — I saw my friend Juhn — Morgen said.

  — And I my father Nen — Leito murmured.

  — Jow spoke to me — Cerwen finished. — Jow, who was the oldest of the Merging Selves before I became that, who fled this life when she beheld the skydwellers and heard the voices of Those under the mountains. And yet she was not Jow as I knew her, for her mind no longer held the thoughts of the village and was no longer bound by our Net — He paused. — Skydwellers descend, the dead speak to us, and giants appear. What are we to do? —

  — I don’t know — Lydee answered, realizing that he was waiting for her suggestion.

  — Then why are you here? —

  — You know that she can’t answer that — Daiya said. — She must wait with us to find out —

  — I saw a vision too — Lydee said. — A woman told me that I must open myself to compassion and love — She frowned, knowing how hard that was going to be. She suddenly imagined Anra and Brun reaching out to crush her mind, destroying the solitary child they had not wanted. Even now, they scorned her; they had not wanted her to return.

  — We do not scorn you, child — Cerwen said. — We are only confused about your purpose in being here —

  — I think I am here to bridge the gap between your world and the comet —

Cerwen nodded; her other two grandparents, Leito and Morgen, were nodding with him. — We know that is what you believe. But how are you to do that? Clearly, it is possible for one here to be taken to the sky to live there and practice strange customs. It might also be possible for one to be brought here as a child, to grow up with no knowledge of that other world —

Lydee recoiled. She knew that no one on the Wanderer would consent to that, to bringing a child here to live, age, and die in such squalor.

  — You see that there is still a barrier between us — Cerwen had read her thoughts. — We cannot break it down. It is you who scorn us —

  — You wanted my death — Lydee replied. — No one on the comet would seek the death of another living thing. We don’t even kill our animals. We have reason to scorn you, and I have more reasons than most —

Daiya gripped her with one mental strand, restraining her anger.

“Don’t hold me back,” Lydee continued aloud. “I can’t hide my thoughts from you, so let me speak them. You would have preferred my death, and you wouldn’t even allow Daiya to live among you. Did any of you protest that judgment?”

Cerwen’s face was impassive. Leito’s green eyes were glassy, while Morgen’s reflected the look of an unthinking, instinctual creature.

“Did you protest it?” Lydee asked, turning from her grandparents toward Anra and Brun.

  — You do not understand — Anra thought, while Brun pressed his lips together. — We must do what we think is right, however we may suffer —

  — Lydee was a solitary — Daiya said. — Now she can mindspeak, and so can her companion Reiho. Other solitaries can be given that power, but only with the help of the skydwellers. That may be our bridge. Such people could live on Earth and yet have a bond with those above, and in time we might all grow closer. Solitaries do not have to die, and we don’t have to bury them in the fields to be forgotten and condemned to eternal separateness —

Cerwen’s mouth twisted. — We would welcome even the birth of a solitary now. At least that would show that we could still bear children. Your dream will die, Granddaughter, along with us, and the rest of Earth’s people will erase our memory —

  — You know why you have no more children — Daiya said. — Your wills have failed you and turn your bodies against you. The future is dead in you. Rid yourselves of fear and despair, and the village will have its children —

  — We would have them only if we could turn from what you have revealed to us and go back to the right way, but we are trapped in separateness and cut off from the rest of Earth. How can we bring more souls into the world only to condemn them to eternal separateness when it is time for them to leave their bodies? —

  — The Minds have spoken to us — Daiya responded. — You have heard Them, too. We once believed God gave us our powers, but we have known for some time that it was our ancestors who actually gave us the power to use them. We cannot go back. We would live a lie —

Cerwen was silent. Anra, arms folded, gazed steadily at Lydee, who was suddenly aware that she was seated in exactly the same way. The five older people were pieces of her; she had Leito’s hands, Brun’s build, Morgen’s round cheeks. If she looked deeply into their minds, she might find other resemblances, but they were all Merging Selves, and their minds had drawn so close to one another and to other villagers that she would not be able to tell which thoughts were their own.

She felt threatened by the group. She might have forgiven them for having once wanted her dead, for they had not known any better, but she could not accept their similarity to herself. They would swallow her and force her to share their fate, which was that of the past.

A thread of compassion touched her; Brun’s warm eyes were gazing in her direction. She refused to meet his glance. He had rejected two daughters, and Silla, the third, carried anger and hatred inside her. Brun and Anra might have taught Silla to care for Daiya, at least.

  — I cannot go back to the comet — Lydee said at last. — I must share whatever awaits you. The Minds have imprisoned both Reiho and me, and will not let us go until whatever we are to do has been done —

  — The Minds — She caught the bitterness in Cerwen’s thoughts. — Why did They allow us to travel for so long on what we believed to be the right path, if it was wrong? Why did They then speak to us and bring evil days upon us, only to fall silent again when we needed Them most? And why do They come to us now in the guise of the dead and speak once more, only to leave the barrier around us? —

A strand of his mind touched Lydee, drawing her into his thoughts. She was conscious of the Net of thought that bound Cerwen and the other villagers; the Net’s threads shook as they touched a cold surface. The old man was sensing the distant barrier, and could not reach beyond it.

  — The wall is still there — Cerwen continued. — The Minds have not taken it away even now —

Abruptly, she withdrew herself from his mind and was inside herself again, wondering if she could have been trapped outside herself, unable to return.

  — We shall not harm you, child — Cerwen said, responding to her thoughts. — We are at peace for now — Leito thought, adding to the chain of words. Morgen sent out a wave of wordless warmth, while Anra and Brun reflected the round man’s sympathy, but their words and thoughts seemed distant from her, only the facets of one group mind. — We shall meet our punishment together — they finished.

  — Let me say this — Daiya thought. — Once I traveled what I thought was an evil path, and I berated myself as you are doing now. If Reiho had not reached out to me and helped me, I would now be dead, and you might have lived out your lives without doubts. The Minds helped me when I needed Their help, and spoke to you —

Cerwen bowed his head.

  — Reiho saved me from a death I sought for myself and restored me to you, and you repaid him by robbing him of his soul, which he still seeks. Now a daughter, a granddaughter has been given to you — Daiya held out a hand to Lydee. — That should be cause for some joy —

Anra reached for Brun’s hand. Their eyes glistened, and for a moment Lydee knew that they were perceiving her as individuals without the intercession of Cerwen’s thoughts.

  — We can’t go back — Daiya went on. — Our old lives were based on falseness and ignorance. We must prepare ourselves for new lives. If we must live them out behind the barrier, and those who follow us must do the same, then we’ll do it, and eventually the wall will fall, even if it takes a thousand cycles, and we will have something new to show the world. We are being tested —

Cerwen stood up; his four companions rose with him almost in one movement. — We must pray — He turned toward Lydee, smiling a little; his eyes were gentle. — I see some traces of your human self, child, but also your solitude. You and your friend may come into the village whenever you wish. Visit our homes as guests, and touch our minds. Perhaps your only purpose, and that of your companion, is to dwell among us until you have become so like us that your skyworld is only a dream —

He turned and walked down the hill, the others trailing him. Knots of people were already making their way back to the village.

He can’t be right, Lydee thought. She could not live here for years. If the shuttle failed for some reason and could not repair itself, she would have to depend entirely on Earth’s food. Her body, strong as it was, would wear out eventually without treatment. She would age and die before her time. How could anyone accept that?

Reiho stared out at the meadow, then stood up and began to hurry down the hill toward the shuttle.

  — We can’t stay here — Lydee said. — Not for years —

Daiya shook back her long hair. — You had better accustom yourself to the idea. Did you think things would change right away? You know how long I have waited —