The Doors Of The Universe (27 page)

He sat up, reaching for his clothes. “Veldry—” he began, wondering what he could possibly say. He had assumed she wouldn’t get hurt. He’d supposed making love was something she took lightly. It hadn’t been that way; her welcome had been genuine, and her emotions as he’d explained the risk had been deep, though unreadable. That much he did recall.

She turned to him. Her face, of course, was not Talyra’s. It was older and lined with past sadness, though now it was alight with joy. It was also, by ordinary standards, more beautiful; Veldry was considered strikingly lovely. But there was more to her than that, Noren realized, trying to guess her thoughts. He sensed more intellect than rumor credited her with. If only he were better at understanding people… .

“Veldry,” he said stiffly. “I—used you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she answered, “I’ve never let anyone use me. One thing I always do is make up my own mind.” Then, watching his eyes, she suddenly exclaimed, “Noren, you don’t believe me! You really think you came here last night and got me to give something you’re sorry you asked for, when it wasn’t that way at all. You were the one who gave! You’ve given me the only chance I’ve ever had to
be
somebody.”

“I don’t see what you mean.”

“I’m—beautiful,” she said slowly, not in a boastful way, but as if it were some sort of burden. “I’m acclaimed for my beauty, and that’s as far as anyone’s looked. When I was a girl, they called me wild; I guess I was, by their scale of values. I had a lover in the village before I was married, and there, that was a disgrace. But I really loved him. Then I found out that all he saw in me was—physical. That was all my husband saw, too. After a while I left him and started telling people what I thought about the world, only no one listened.” With a bitter laugh she added, “They didn’t even listen to heresy! If a girl’s pretty enough, it’s assumed she hasn’t any thoughts, let alone heretical ones. Do you know what I was finally arrested for? Blasphemy—the blasphemy of claiming to have made love with a Technician.”

“Why did you tell a lie like that?” Noren asked, appalled. It could not possibly have been a true claim; Technicians were forbidden by the High Law to take advantage of village women, who, assuming them to be superior beings, would obey any request without question.

“Didn’t you ever want to convince people Technicians were human, and that you were their equal?”

Yes, of course he had. All village heretics defied the caste concept; Veldry’s form of rebellion had been imaginative if not prudent.

“Maybe I wanted to see the inside of the City,” she went on, “or maybe I just wanted to die trying to be more than the object of men’s desire. I knew the Scholars were wise. I thought they’d see what I was, even though they’d kill me for it.”

“But Stefred did see, surely. He judged you qualified for Scholar rank.”

“Yes. At first I was overwhelmed, it was so inspiring—the dreams, I mean. I wouldn’t have accepted rank as payment for recanting; I’ve never sold myself any way. But the Prophecy… well, I was never a heretic about that; I liked the ritual even as a little girl. I liked the thought of a changing future. I was so dedicated in the beginning, Noren. Only… there hasn’t been anything I could do here, to help change things, I mean. I’m not a scientist, my mind isn’t that sort. I know officially the work I do rates just as much respect. But—but men still single me out for my starcursed
beauty!”
She reached out for his hand, clutched it. “You’re the first one who’s wanted anything more important.”

“You’ve had babies before. That’s important.”

“Yes, of course, but the men who fathered them weren’t thinking about future generations, they just—well, you know. I don’t mean they didn’t love me, I’ve never had a lover who didn’t claim he was in love… only there was never anything lasting.”

“Veldry,” Noren said painfully, “I’m not sure what I said about us, and that bothers me, because what’s between us can’t last, either.”

“It will! Not you and me, no, of course I know that. Do you think I wouldn’t have known even if you’d tried to pretend?” She stood up, began fastening the front of her tunic. “You’d never been with anyone but Talyra before, had you?”

He didn’t reply. “I knew that, too,” Veldry went on. “You were still with Talyra last night, in your mind, anyway.”

“I suppose I was. And it wasn’t fair to you,” he confessed in misery. “You’re
you
, and I didn’t respect you enough. It wasn’t right.”

“How can you say you didn’t respect me? You told me future generations will live because of us! That our child will be the first person truly adapted to this world, that from him and others like him will come a race that can survive after the machines break down, and maybe someday, somehow, will get back to the stars. No one ever talks to me about things like that. You did. You asked my opinion of what the woman did in the dream. And when I said I’ve always wanted to be the kind of person she was, do something really significant and daring, I meant it.”

“Even knowing how it turned out for her?”

“Even so—because someone’s got to try, somebody’s got to take the risks. I admire you for taking them, even going against the Council to take them. You paid me the biggest compliment anyone ever has by guessing I’d be willing to take them, too. That’s what matters, not the fact you can’t fall in love with me.”

“I wish I could, Veldry,” Noren told her. “But I’m not ever going to fall in love again.”

“Yes, you are,” she said gently. “In time, you are. I’m not the right person for you, but in time there’ll be someone—not to replace Talyra, no one ever could—but someone different, someone you’ll share a whole new life with. And she will be a very fortunate woman.”

“I hope you’ll find someone to share with, too.”

“Maybe it’ll happen. I try—every time, I believe it will, only there just aren’t many men who look at things the way I do. I—I’ll always be happy to know there’s one, and that I’m having his child.”

“We can’t really be sure yet,” Noren pointed out, “and much as I’d like to promise I’ll be back—”

“You won’t be back,” Veldry acknowledged. “What happened last night couldn’t happen twice, not between you and me. But I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if the timing had been wrong. I wouldn’t have presumed to take Talyra’s place without expecting to conceive. You mustn’t worry yet—I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a baby.”

*
 
*
 
*

Back in his own room, alone, Noren began facing the fact that there was nothing further he could do until the baby was born. Nothing… and he did not see how he could live with his own thoughts, let alone carry on normal relationships with people, considering the magnitude of the secrets he now bore.

He did have to keep Lianne’s secret. He was absolutely convinced, as if she’d somehow communicated it directly to his inner mind, that Lianne would kill herself if he told anyone about her. To be sure, he might tell Stefred in confidence—but no, Lianne would sense that Stefred knew. She was too intuitive not to. And if she carried out her threat, Stefred would suffer terribly.

Think about it sometime
, Lianne had said when he’d asked why secrecy was worth her life. She’d said it was one mystery he might solve. He’d never approved of secrets. No Scholar did; the guardianship of knowledge was condoned only as a necessary evil. How could Lianne have gotten through the tests of candidacy if she accepted an equivalent form of secrecy as right?

For that matter, how had she gotten through them at all?

Stefred had not invaded her privacy. But he must certainly have tested her in all relevant ways. If she did not truly care about the survival of future generations, she would have been disqualified. If she considered herself superior to people, even subconsciously, she’d have been screened out, too; that was one thing for which prospective Scholars were probed very thoroughly. Anyway, it just wasn’t possible to believe Lianne’s view was as heartless as she’d claimed. He, Noren, had long known how she felt toward him, and the kind of love she’d been hiding could not exist in someone whose inner feelings were inhuman.

The other kind, the outward physical expression… Lianne had not offered that before; she’d understood too well about Talyra. How could she have been so inconsistent in the end? It wasn’t just that she wanted his love—she’d had her chance, she could have lived with him for weeks without confessing there’d be no child. What he’d discovered shouldn’t have altered anything, for she knew better than to think he’d accept that sort of “comfort” from her. The pieces didn’t fit. She’d risked a secret she’d give her life to keep by refusing him, then at the last minute, had insulted him by suggesting…

Oh, Noren thought suddenly, oh, what a fool he’d been! Both times, she had been thinking of the child she couldn’t give him. When his discovery had made him balk at the risk of the experiment, she’d insulted him purposely to drive him in anger to Veldry.

She’d taken terrible chances. In his rage he might have gone straight to Stefred if it hadn’t been that she was his only link to more information about the aliens. Why must she keep their presence secret? For the same reason the Founders’ secrets had been kept—people in general simply could not live with the frustration of knowing themselves to be cut off from the wider universe. Noren was not sure he would be able to live with it, even temporarily. He wasn’t sorry for his discovery, not when he’d felt deeply since childhood that it was always preferable to know the truth. But few others felt that way. He and Lianne had agreed on that, the day they’d talked about the alien sphere.
He
had told
her
that most Scholars refused to acknowledge its implications! No wonder she’d realized he could figure out the need for secrecy.

To hide knowledge was evil, yes. But necessary in this case, too, if his genetic work was the only hope. Yet how could it be, when there was an alien starship standing by?

Lianne was on his side, but on her own people’s, too. She had not said she was in conflict with them; she was their agent, their observer. How could they justify letting the caste system stand another two generations when they could end it by supplying metal? Lianne considered it evil, she couldn’t have qualified for Scholar status otherwise, still she wasn’t condemning her people’s inaction. Besides, after the genetic change was put into effect, the world would lose its metal-based technology, lose the Six Worlds’ heritage of knowledge—surely she could not let that happen. And if the aliens must intervene eventually, why not now?

In time, if you have courage enough, you’ll begin to perceive what’s involved
, she’d said. In his anger Noren hadn’t stopped to ponder that. He’d indeed been a fool, he now realized. He had expected understanding their ways to be
easy
! He had been picturing a starship like the Six Worlds’ ships, “advanced” in the sense of having faster-than-light communicators, but not the vessel of a truly alien culture. He’d imagined no disquieting mysteries—yet at the same time he’d anticipated being immediately given all the answers to the secrets of the universe. Enlightenment didn’t work like that, not even for heretics who entered the City as Scholar candidates. One could hardly expect education by aliens to be less difficult than learning about the heritage of the Six Worlds. How blind he’d been not to see the comparison.

Stefred, too, had warned him that he would suffer, that there would be a price for knowledge. No doubt this was also the case with alien knowledge. Noren’s spirits lifted. He must face an ordeal, perhaps, but it would be the sort of challenge he’d long ago found he enjoyed.

He must not judge Lianne’s people prematurely, he thought as he put on fresh clothes. After all, he’d judged the Scholars throughout boyhood on the basis of false premises and had learned that motives couldn’t be guessed from the outside. He would not make that mistake again.

Sulking in his room would get him nowhere. He must prove himself worthy to be enlightened by proceeding with the research they considered essential. Though he couldn’t do any more with human genetics till his child’s birth, it would be possible to design the genetic changes needed to enable grain to grow in untreated soil. Low priority as that was, it would be constructive. Even if metal became available in time, ability to live off the land would be desirable. Of course! The genetic change would be needed in any case for his human race to be self-sufficient; knowing that, the aliens would see how far he could go without aid. In the meantime, they’d be evaluating his readiness to receive what would ultimately be offered. Heartened, Noren went to the refectory for a meal.

Later that day he saw Stefred. “I ran the blood test,” he told him impassively. “It showed Lianne’s right; genetically there’s no chance of her getting pregnant.”

“I’m sorry, of course, for her sake,” Stefred said, “but someday I’ll make her see that she’s worth as much as any other woman.”

“That shouldn’t be too big of a problem,” Noren agreed. He did not say, however, that he hoped she and Stefred would become lovers; he discovered to his surprise that this was no longer quite true.

*
 
*
 
*

Noren tried, honestly, to work. He sat at a computer console long past suppertime reading technical genetic data about grain. But he could not keep his mind from wandering.

He’d resolved to question Lianne no further till he had proven he could conquer impatience. So that evening after Orison it was she who came seeking him—he glanced up from the console and saw her standing there, looking so stricken that he was overcome by remorse. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might need reassurance.