Orion Shall Rise (12 page)

The living room was somewhat larger and much more gracious. However, it was windowless, the habitations being inboard of the working sections. Fluorescent panels and landscape paintings could not open a way out of her feeling of imprisonment. Anyhow, they weren’t
her
pictures, they had been hung there by people generations in the grave, nor were the draperies and carpet and lightweight furniture hers. Thank foresight that she’d brought along a number of books. But she hadn’t expected that her stay in heaven would give her an opportunity to catch up on her reading.

A knock at the door brought her from it. She hurried across the floor with her heart aflutter. Who –? Iern was at work, and as for Jovain, she was to meet him this afternoon.

Opening, she saw an auburn-haired young woman in an elegant, if slightly immodest, calf-length gown. ‘Blessing be upon you,’ the stranger greeted formally, but with a wide smile. ‘If this is an intrusion, I depart in good will.’

‘Oh, no,’ Faylis said. ‘Please come in.’

The other did. They exchanged respects, hands crossed on bosoms, heads bowed. ‘I’m Ricasoli Anjelan Scout,’ the newcomer explained. ‘We haven’t met because my friend and I are three halls away. We’re taking our month … and to think it’s half gone already, and not till yesterday did we learn that Talence Iern Ferlay has been here all along! You can imagine how thrilled we were. I came to ask if you’d care to visit us.’

‘Why, why, yes, of course. Thank you. Won’t you sit down? I’ll make coffee.’

‘No, please don’t.’ Anjelan laughed. ‘That would be a poor way to start an acquaintance, putting you to such an expense.’

‘A glass of wine, then?’ On getting agreement, Faylis set forth a decanter and goblets. They were beautiful antique crystal, but they belonged to Skyholm, not her.

Anjelan quickly made herself welcome. Her chatter was vivacious and amicable and it broke the solitude. By birth she was of Clan Bergdorff, from Toulou in the South. Lately she had divorced – something which no few of her age group had decided was not a betrayal of kinship, as their forebears had supposed – and was now sharing quarters with one of her lovers. The settlement had given her an independent income, and she saw no reason to work. ‘Not that I’m selfish,’ she added. ‘At home I belong to a little theater society. We go on tour for three weeks every year – bring some culture to the pysans, you know, or at least a bit of fun. Maybe it makes them less restless.’ She cocked her head. ‘I hope I haven’t shocked you.’

‘No,’ Faylis replied, unsure whether or not she quite spoke truth. ‘I know there are many nowadays who think like you, and who am I to call it wrong? Foreigners and their ideas have been arriving ever since the Isolation Era ended, and it’s becoming a flood. Inevitably, that forces us to question our own assumptions.’

Anjelan regarded her. ‘You’re different, aren’t you, dear?’

‘Well, I was a student when I met Iern, and since we got married, most of the people we see have been, are, they’re inclined to be old-fashioned and make a big thing out of duty.’
Most of the people
we
see,
passed through her.
Not those he goes off to make merry with.

‘And you’re a very serious person, too; that’s clear.’ Anjelan’s glance dropped to an open book on the table between them. ‘A reader. My, that does look learned, as thick as it is. What’s it about?’ She leaned closer, to see the title at the head of a page.
‘Principles of
Gaean Thought.
Oh!’ She straightened in her chair and registered some shock of her own. ‘Is that your religion? I’d never have guessed.’

‘Gaeanity
is
not a religion,’ Faylis answered ‘It’s a set of insights and practices.’

‘Really? I don’t want to be rude, but frankly, I always took for granted – a cult that began among barbarian nomads away off in Merique –’

‘The Mong are not barbarians,’ Faylis declared with a touch of irritation. ‘They’re not exactly nomads, either. They’ve been civilized for centuries, even though it’s a civilization unlike ours.’

‘But – do forgive me; I’m fascinated – we hear about the danger from Espayn – yes, I distinctly remember an article in a newspaper, quoting your husband as calling Gaeanity a menace.’

‘I am not required to share his every opinion. Being in the Air Force, he’s naturally concerned about military threats. But I think he exaggerates our problems with Espayn. Yes, the Domain tried to keep Lonzo from conquering the larger part of Iberya, but failed, and the Zhenerals have held that against us ever since – especially when we did later force them out of Italya. And yes, Gaean missionaries have made many converts there, who’re anxious to convince everybody else. But they aren’t plotting to invade us. I have a close friend whose estate is in the Pryny Mountains, in Eskual-Herria Nord, on the very border. He fought in the Italyan campaign, by the way. And he says the Espaynian leaders aren’t insane. They may nibble away here and there on the fringes, where Skyholm is below the horizon, but that’s normal. Think about the tribes beyond the Rhin.’

‘You
are
an interesting person, Faylis,’ Anjelan said. ‘So quiet, until the fire lights in you.’ She paused. ‘Could you explain to me, then, what Gaeanity is? I never paid attention before, I only heard what you’d call the clichés.’

Faylis relaxed, touched in spite of herself, and smiled. ‘That’s what Iern would describe as a three-bottle mission,’ she replied. ‘I couldn’t possibly in an hour – and mind you, I’m not a Gaean. Not yet. Maybe I never will actually embrace the philosophy. But I’m learning whatever I can, because I do think there’s a basic, really basic truth in it.’

‘Could you give me just a few words?’

‘Well, let me read them to you.’ Faylis picked up the book and
turned back to its preface. As she pronounced the sentences, her voice grew low and it was as if something glowed within her.

‘“Life upon Earth is One. This
is
no metaphor. It is a statement of fact, simple and tremendous.

‘“Nor
is
this knowledge altogether new. Some faiths, most notably in Hinja, have maintained from time immemorial that existence has a fundamental unity. Ancient records, lately discovered by archeologists and studied by historians, show that toward the end of the Age of Plenty, a few thinkers were expressing the idea in secular terms.

‘“The War of Judgment cast their work into oblivion. Karakan Afremovek never heard of it. But that Yuanese philosopherecologist, inspired by the Buddhism and Christianity of his nation but drawing on scientific principles, reached the same conclusion, and proceeded thence to understand the nature of Gaea.

‘“The core teaching is this: that Gaea, our living planet,
is
a single organism. From the first chemical stirrings in primordial oceans, onward to human awareness, a force within life has made it bring about its own evolution toward ever greater majesty and meaning. That evolution has not ended with us. It will go on as long as Gaea Herself endures.

‘“We are organs, or rather organelles, that She has developed in order that She may think. We no more exist separately from Her than the cells of our bodies exist, in any viable fashion, separately from us. We live because we belong; we serve the immense Oneness, as does every animal, plant, or lowliest microbe.

‘“The teaching of Karakan
is
true. Therefore it
is
not sentimental. Evolution has thus far been the working of a blind force, often going wrong though always in the end correcting itself The brain that humanity has provided life with is primitive. Intelligence went horribly astray in the Age of Plenty, when a recklessly exploitative industrial civilization degraded the biosphere and could have destroyed it, like a cancer destroying a man. The War of Judgment was not a plain human mistake, an unleashing of powers more vast and lethal than anyone had truly comprehended. It was a fever whereby Gaea freed Herself of a disease.

‘“Let us never forget. Else the Life Force may well cast us off entirely, as it cast off the dinosaurs, and spend the next few millions of years evolving a creature that
is
both sentient and sane. Our part
is
to serve the supreme organism of which we are a part. Ours
is
to
revere life, while developing ourselves as human beings because that is to develop an aspect of Gaea.”’

Anjelan threw up her hands. ‘Stop!’ she laughed. ‘It’s far too heavy for me.’

Faylis took the volume off her lap and reached for her wine. ‘But I hope you’ll agree it isn’t a jumble of pagan superstitions,’ she said.

‘Yes, indeed. I’m impressed. Though I’m afraid it’s scarcely my cup of tea.’

‘Hm-m, all kinds of people have accepted it. I admit, no doubt most of them have quite a superficial understanding, and get much of it wrong. Really studying it is hard work.’

‘And you’re such a studious type. I suppose you think I’m shallow.’

‘Oh, no –’

‘I don’t pretend to be deep. I only like to enjoy myself. What else
is
there in life?’ Quickly: ‘Yes, dear, you’ve tried to explain what there
is
… for you. But don’t you like a good time now and then?’

Faylis bit her lip. ‘When it happens.’

Anjelan grew sympathetic. ‘Not so often, am I right? Your man’s work keeps him away from home a great deal, and you haven’t anybody else, and your associates aren’t too sprightly, are they?’ Her smile turned sour. ‘And be honest, Skyholm has been a disappointment, hasn’t it? It has to me. I don’t care for the sports in the gymnasium. Plays, concerts, lectures get boring. The dances and other social activities are unimaginative. Meditation on the centuries of history around us – ha!’

Faylis smiled faintly. ‘I admire your frankness.’

Anjelan leaned across the table and patted her hostess’ hand. ‘Well, my Zhoen and I can help you to some pleasure while we’re here. And you can help us. Everything I’ve read or heard about Iern says he’s a jolly sort when he chooses to be. When can you come?’

‘I’ll have to ask him, but surely soon.’

‘Good. I’m an excellent cook, even with this miserable equipment, so bring an appetite. Afterward – well, I own a record player and took it along. I have unusual discs for it, too. Have you heard the Balearic Ensemble? Super-erotic. Especially when you’re smoking – Now don’t look that disapproving. We won’t press it on you, if you don’t want any, but really, marijuana isn’t for brutish back-country yokels. Most young Clansfolk use it, at least in my circle, and take no harm.’

‘Um, would you care for some more wine?’

– Both women were mellowed when Anjelan left. At the door she
said, ‘One last thing, darling. Your husband has been my hero ever since he rode into that hurricane. Would you mind if I borrow him? A girl I know has told me he’s fabulous in bed.’

Faylis could only stare. In a peripheral, half-denying fashion she had recognized that Iern did not always sleep by himself when away from home. Perhaps he seldom did. But if this was common gossip –

Anjelan tittered and stroked Faylis’ cheek. Thank you,’ she said. ‘Never fear, I’ll return him in mint condition. Goodbye, now.’

The door closed behind her. Faylis kept staring at it, until she recalled that the hour was near for her to meet Jovain.

2

Fitted in between the ribs of Skyholm, corridors were short, companionways were steep, both were narrow and heavily trafficked. Faylis must continually squeeze by people: stern-faced officer, brisk technician, pondering scientist, solemn chaplain, sophisticated city woman, rural squire full of marvel, young couple on their first visit but intent only on each other, aged couple on their last visit and also hand in hand, Clansfolk who affected the costumes of whatever states they lived in, one a dark alien – Maurai, surely – who had some professional reason to come aloft. … Usage had stylized such encounters, made them into a dance of movements and expressions whereby you avoided jostling and, simultaneously, the appearance of indifference. In the beginning Faylis had been enchanted. Later she found it monotonous, meaningless, maddening.

She wondered how anybody could endure repeated assignments here. Well, they had their work to keep them interested. Doubtless they grew accustomed to the crowdedness, and accepted the – the decorum, the reverence for Skyholm as the heart of civilization, that was expected. She could try to empathize. After all, though raised in the spaciousness of a Bourgoynais estate, she had accepted dormitory quarters when she entered the Consvatoire, that she might dwell in the brilliance of books and intellects.

She had imagined Skyholm as an intensified version of that, until she arrived and found that Iern had taken more than one virginity from her. Never again could she look heavenward and see a kind of divinity in this hollow globe. It was merely a thing humans had
made, which kept some of them in power over others. The mystery and grandeur of life inhered in life itself.

Fragrance welled up a companionway. She hastened into the Garden.

The bottom tier of the inhabited belt did more than help freshen the air. Mostly aeroponic, to save the weight of soil, it nevertheless seemed totally natural. It restored the spirit with leaves, blossoms, playful waters,
singing
and winging birds, intricacy, intimacy. Children could rollick along the walks and steps without troubling lovers in an arbor, oldsters in talk or reverie on a bench, a meditator before a shrine, a wanderer in search of peace and beauty. The art of centuries had learned how to create lushness out of very little, where it was desired, and elsewhere make sparseness delightful.

Where Faylis entered from above, a catwalk began. Its rails were elaborately trained grapevines, its carpeting was moss, it went on into moist green dusk through a tunnel of foliage wherein orchids glowed. Following this, she came to a bridge over a tiny stream that ran through a channel of indurated wood whose irregularities made it swirl, jump, and chuckle. Presently she took a stairway, whose own wood had been selected for its grain, that curved downward and around, into a stand of bamboo rustling and clicking in warm ventilator breezes. Leaving that, she saw the brooklet ring as a waterfall across a sculptured panel, into a basin where goldfish flickered.