Watchstar (20 page)

Harel shook his head.

—It's true—

—How do you know this other wasn't an illusion?—

Her mind seemed suddenly clear.—I know—she thought, almost dropping her wall in her surprise at the answer.—I know, because through this other person, I saw and learned about things and ideas which did not exist in my mind before. An illusion must come from something, a thought, an idea, an experience you've had, a legend you've been told. You may combine them in many different ways, but each piece will be something you know. But I saw new things, things that could not have come from my mind or the mind of anyone I know, the ideas were too elaborate for that—

—It must be an evil thing, sent to delude you—

—By what? What would seek to do that? I have my evidence, give me yours—

He began to walk away. She got up, scurrying quickly along her side of the ditch.—Harel! Answer me, don't just walk away—

He turned and faced her for a moment and she saw such pain in his face that she gasped. She drew back, pulling every bit of her mind behind her wall. She could have him, could reach inside and pull at his love, force him to her side, show him what she had seen over and over again until he could no longer doubt it, but at the cost of qualities she had loved in him; his calm acceptance of how things were, his clear, uncomplicated mind, his sturdy loyalty to his family and the village. He would be only her puppet.

She looked down at the ground, and let him go.

Daiya sat at the top of a hill, her back against a tree. The watchfires were lit; the village slept. The distant mountains slumbered under the comet's light while the machines beneath them, like the minds of the villagers, hummed and dreamed.

She should not have returned. It had been a mistake. She knew what the village was thinking about her now, when they thought of her at all; she had caught a glimpse of it in her grandfather's mind, and in Harel's. If they could not drive her away, or tear down her mind, they would exile her, perhaps remove the Net again. She could walk down this hill, and into the village, walk through its streets and stop at the hut of her parents, go inside and unroll her mat, and she would still be outside the village, cut off from the minds there. She would have no place—no longer a child, unable to live in a hut with young people past their ordeal, without a partner—there was nothing for her. It would be worse than if she never went back at all.

She thought of Etey, feeling resentful of the woman, with her queer notions of communication between the village and the comet. They had trouble enough communicating with others of their own kind who lived on other comet worlds. What had made her think Daiya's people would be different? Daiya could touch their minds, and still not reach them. Etey did not really care about her at all; she was only someone to be used for another purpose.

Reiho, at least, had cared about her welfare. He was as foolish as she had been, thinking she could go back and have everything as it was. She suddenly found herself hating him because he could go back to his home and rejoin his friends and in time resume his normal life, or what passed for one there. She hated him because she knew she could go with him, but she would only be going to a place where there was no position for her, no way she would ever fit in. She would have her calming implant, but none of her powers; it would be like passing through life blind and deaf.

She could, she supposed, have her body changed as theirs were; then her life on Earth would in time seem far away. She might even look back on it in the way she thought of her own infancy, just beyond the reach of her memory, a distant stage of her existence. But she could never submit to the alteration of her body, its mutilation, and without such alterations her life would be to theirs as a butterfly's was to those here. She had learned enough to know that. She would flutter through their collective consciousness and be gone, her life only a stored pattern in Homesmind. The alienness of that idea made her shiver, as she wondered if she herself would be trapped there for all eternity. If the vast cybernetic organism could hold her memory, it could hold her soul. Was that what those people did instead of joining the Merged One?

There was no purpose left in her life. She had nowhere to go. She would die and it would be as if she had never lived, unless she survived in the memory of future villagers as a dim legend, a warning to children of the dangers of separateness. She was not that unique; perhaps there had been others like her, though most of them must have died during ordeals. Her grandmother Rilla had been one, no doubt, with her moodiness and her inability to join the Merging Ones. Her parents had lost Rin, and now, for all practical purposes, her as well. Maybe it was for the better. Daiya would have no children; maybe the bit of Rilla in her family would die out and would not be a part of their descendants.

She stretched out under the tree, wanting to rest but sure she would not be able to sleep. She would only have to wait four more days and then Etey and Reiho would be gone. That would be much better for her; she would be free from playing with the absurd notion of joining them. She would be free to prepare herself for death, the only thing left. She could stop clinging to life.

Her muscles became tight. Why should the thought of death disturb her? She had faced it often enough, had sought it. But she did not want to die now; she couldn't die. There was too much left to discover and sort out. She had once known almost all there was a person could know, and then the world had changed, and now she knew she could live a hundred cycles and not know more than a tiny portion of it all. She had to come to some understanding of this knowledge, however small and tentative, some way of reconciling herself to it. Perhaps it could console her for what she had lost.

She recalled her friends: frail Mausi and clever Oren, fearful Sude, stolid Tasso and angry Peloren, all of them dead in the desert. Their deaths seemed so pointless now, their lives cut off just as they had been starting. The village had been very devious; better to have taken them all to the public space and doused the sparks of consciousness. They could have lived, but the village had killed them, the weight of legend and custom had struck them down. It could have been otherwise. That was the thought that had destroyed her world for her; it could have been otherwise. God had not given them their destiny. They had made it for themselves, then protected themselves from anything that would have changed it. Her friends had died, not to preserve the Merged One's plan, but only to keep things as they were, unchanged and permanent as rocks and stones.

How could people live as hers had lived, with such abilities, to come to this? They denied the power available to them and had forgotten it; they tried to break down the walls around people, yet set a barrier around all humankind on Earth. It made no sense, it was a monstrous joke, a fraud. She buried her head in the grass. She choked; her body shook as tears rolled down her face. A cry escaped her and vibrated in the night air.

She cried at last for her dead friends.

Daiya, standing at the edge of the fields, saw the craft before the villagers did.

She clenched her fists. The morning air was cold on her face. Rage filled her as she thought of seizing the shuttle, hurling it back to the desert. The air around her grew warm. Then she felt the terrified feelings of those working in the fields. They threw down their tools and raced toward one another, huddling together among the wheat while others hurried out from the village.

Daiya had come to the edge of the fields at dawn, determined to take one last look at the village before leaving it. She knew that would be better than lingering near it, tormenting herself with the sight of the home she no longer had.

Now Etey had come to disturb the village with her ridiculous hopes. Daiya thought: I shouldn't do a thing to help her. But there was Reiho to consider. She was sure he had tried to talk Etey out of coming here.

Long lines of villagers were winding through the fields. She sensed the turmoil of their thoughts at the sight of this strange illusion. She caught their fears; first Daiya, with her twisted soul, had returned to disturb them, her mindpowers strengthened by some evil force. Now an alien machine had come to the village. They were blaming her for it. They were not entirely mistaken.

The shuttle set down just beyond the edge of the fields. Daiya ran toward it, almost stumbling; she lifted herself from the ground and floated the rest of the way. Several Merging Ones were moving toward the craft. They halted several paces from it, studying the illusion. The doors slid open. Daiya caught a glimpse of Etey's red hair. The woman emerged from the shuttle, followed by Reiho. Etey stepped forward and faced the Merging Ones. Reiho hung back, leaning against the vehicle.

Daiya alighted, casting an angry look in Etey's direction. The minds of the Merging Selves murmured, still stunned by the apparition. Daiya saw Fayl NuraBaan release the arm of the woman guiding him. She felt the fear in him; the blind man, unable to comprehend the sight his companions had conveyed to him, was blocking the vision. Cerwen was with the group; his dark eyes gazed at her sadly.—What have you brought to us, Daiya?—Anger slapped her. Jowē was hobbling toward them. Daiya felt a tug on the Net. The old woman was trying to draw the villagers together, controlling their fears with her strength.

Etey held out her hands. Her lips moved. “Do not be afraid,” she said. “I mean no harm.”

The Merging Ones tensed, sure that she did. Daiya stood between the villagers and Etey, surprised at how cold and empty she felt. She was certain that she could not defend Etey and Reiho against the entire village; she was not that strong. Neither could she stand by and watch them destroyed. Etey had finally set her against her own people.

14

Jowē faced Etey. She surveyed the woman with her small fierce eyes, then gazed at Reiho. Her mouth twisted, as if she had tasted a strange and bitter food and then spat it out. Her gaze fell on Daiya.

—What have you brought to us, girl?—

—They are people from another world—

—The smaller one is like a solitary, yet it lives. The larger one has a mind weak as a baby's. Such things cannot exist—

—But they do—Daiya replied.

—They cannot. There is nothing like them in our world. It is an illusion. You have brought it. Tell the evil which holds you in its grip to disperse it—

—They are not from here. They live in the sky, far away. They have their own world. But Earth was once their home, too. They were like us, long ago. Their ancestors and ours are the same. You must believe me—Daiya gripped her tunic at the throat with one hand, twisting the fabric. She was afraid now. Her fear was becoming a cold solid mass inside her. She imagined it forming, like the black thing in the desert, swallowing everyone.—They too have minds—She went on.—They think and feel. Touch them and see for yourself—

Jowē's face was drawn and tired. The leathery skin wrinkled into furrows on her forehead and sagged in pouches near her mouth. Her mind, and those of the other Merging Ones, wove together as they tried to reconcile the presence of the strangers with all that they believed. Daiya could not follow their reasoning, and caught only a few images: people bound by the strands of the Net, one golden strand binding them to God and the heavens, standing before two machines. The tentacles on the machines fluttered. Daiya gasped, cursing herself silently for her stupidity. The villagers could only see Etey and Reiho as cylindrical machines. She recalled her first glimpse of Reiho, how frightened she had been.

—No—she thought, breaking into their reasoning.—That is not how they are. Look at them only with your eyes, you will see—She looked around desperately, noticing that her parents were standing together at the edge of the crowd. They seemed older and more worn. Anra's hands were folded over her abdomen, as if protecting her unborn child. Brun stared at the ground, lips pursed, shoulders slumped in shame. Silla clung to the edge of his tunic. Their walls were up, their minds rejecting the daughter they had brought into the world.—You can't reject them—Daiya continued, turning back to Jowē.

Fayl's mind touched hers.—I cannot see them—the blind man thought.—But I sense nothing human about them. They mimic our feelings, but there is no depth to them, their humors are weak. They have no smell, and I can hear no rustle of clothing when they move, only the tread of feet and a soft crackling. I am afraid to put out my hands and touch them—

“What is going on?” Etey's whisper was almost a hiss. Daiya glanced at her. “I feel strange things in the air, I...”

“You are a fool,” Daiya replied. She built a mental wall around the woman to protect her from the villagers. “You have endangered Reiho and yourself. You couldn't listen to me, could you, I was just something for you to lie to and use. You believe you know best, you trample on things you don't understand. Maybe you aren't really human after all.”

Etey wrinkled her brows. “We went into the mountains.” Daiya muffled the words, suddenly sensing that she did not want the village to hear what Etey might say. “I touched the minds. They are vast in their knowledge and their power. They drew me out, I tried to withdraw, but I could not withstand them. They pressed me to come here, and said your people must awaken. I could not resist them.”

“I don't believe you,” Daiya said, pulling at Etey's thoughts. “I touched them, too. The machines would not use force. They could have forced me to return, but they did not.”

“They drew me here.”

Daiya wanted to claw at Etey's mind. She brushed against an alien strand of thought and drew back. The machines had been persuasive, tempting Etey, but the decision had been hers. She had not been able to resist. The machines had minds mightier and more knowledgeable than that of a young girl, therefore she would listen to them and not to Daiya. So Etey had reasoned.

Daiya withdrew from the woman's thoughts. “You should not have brought Reiho.”

“I could not stop him. I have not been able to control him for some time now.” Etey's weaker mind pushed against her accusingly. Daiya struggled to hold up the wall that separated them, and their thoughts, from the village. “At least the village will believe you now,” Etey went on. “We are your evidence.”

Daiya dug her nails into her palms. For a moment, she saw herself striking down the woman, punishing her for her arrogance. Then Etey's eyes widened; her body jerked as if she had been struck. Daiya felt a wave of hostility sweeping toward them from the Merging Selves.

She threw up a shield before Etey was struck again. Reiho, bewildered, leaned against the shuttle, unable to sense a thing.

“Get back in the shuttle and go,” Daiya cried, too late. Another wave slapped her, shattering the shield. Etey was thrown to the ground. Reiho blinked. Daiya threw up a wall, holding it as well as she could. The village beat against it. The ground shook, the shuttle wobbled, and Reiho was thrown flat. Etey clung to the ground as Daiya struggled to keep her footing.

A dark cloud was forming above the villagers, a black billowing storm, flashing with lightning, formed out of water and masses of air. Daiya put out her hands as if warding it off. It was a physical object, not an illusion or mental projection; even Reiho could, she was sure, perceive it. In despair, she realized that the Merging Ones had understood that Etey could see and feel mental constructs only vaguely, and Reiho not at all. The cloud grew larger, rumbling loudly as the lightning flashed.

She opened a channel to the mountains, drawing all the power she could. The cloud swept toward them. A fork of electricity struck the ground near Reiho. Daiya compressed some air and hurled it against the cloud with all her might. Her nerves prickled. A crack of thunder stung her ears, almost deafening her. The air was thick with the burning scent of lightning. The cloud broke apart and scattered, showering them with rain as it was dispersed.

Jowē threw out her arms, raising the wind. Daiya held up her shield, protecting Reiho and Etey. The wind shrieked, pulling up wheat and dirt, circling them like a cyclone. Daiya's hair lashed her face and slashed at her eyelids, almost blinding her. Her tunic was plastered against her body, pulling across her breasts. She struggled to preserve the calm at the center of the wind as the funnel surrounded them, screaming all the anger and fear of the Merging Selves. A sheaf of wheat, caught in the wind, cut at her, forcing her closer to her companions.

Reiho pressed against her, trying to protect her with his body. She felt him wrestle with his fears as he tried to keep up his courage. He was foolish, his bravery based on ignorance; he had not known what he was entering, and had no judgment about when to advance or retreat. But she had a bond with him. He guarded her with his arms, and she decided not to tell him that it would do her no good.

She would be unable to hold the shield much longer. Her body was growing weaker; her capacity to draw on the power under the mountains was failing. The cyclone was a wall. She could not see through it; she was sick and dizzy from watching its movement.

“Daiya,” Reiho said. He held her, trying to support her body. She rested against him, grateful for the gesture. Breathing deeply, she struggled to renew herself, and then straightened.

She gathered up all her strength, aiming it at the cyclone. She lifted it from them, pushing it toward the plain. The dark funnel dashed over the grassy flat ground, cutting a path through the verdant growth. As the villagers released it, the dirt it had captured sifted through the air toward the ground.

Etey was trembling with fear. The air grew cold around them. The woman, knowing about the minds under the mountains, was trying to reach them, too. A wind howled and swept toward the village, flattening the wheat. It tore at the tops of the huts, swirling grass into the streets. The cattle grazing at the eastern edge of the fields turned together and moved toward the crops. Etey's mind was out of control as she tried to fight back. Several villagers threw their minds at the cattle. The herd swerved and took off toward the plains.

“No!” Daiya screamed, knowing Etey would only destroy herself, as well as frighten the village; she had no training. Daiya stopped the wind and seized the woman's shoulders. Etey twisted away. “Stop, you cannot fight back, you don't know what you're doing.”

She turned back toward the Merging Ones. The air around her was icy, pricking her skin with cold needle points. Jowē glared at her and raised a hand. The fallow fields lurched, vomiting the bones of the buried. Daiya watched with horror as the Merging Ones lifted the bones with their minds, desecrating graves in their attempt to destroy the intruders. The bones danced. Thigh bones struck the ground, finger bones separated from hands clawed the air, rib cages spun; above them all hung empty-eyed, disembodied skulls, grinning. Reiho clung to Etey, his mouth open in a silent scream.

The bones swept toward them, clanking and rattling. A baby's skull struck Daiya on her leg, a tibia beat her back. Etey seized the bones with her mind, trying to scatter them. They rained on Daiya, pounding her shoulders. Daiya threw a shield around the woman, trying to hold it as she pushed the bones from them. The air hummed around her; the bones rattled. She cursed Etey and her feeble, misdirected powers. She could not protect them much longer if she had to fight both the woman's efforts and the rage of the village.

She drew more power. Her nerves were burning; her muscles cramped. She scattered the bones. They exploded into pieces and then were dust, settling around them in a fine white powder.

Exhausted, Daiya collapsed on the ground. She sat up almost as quickly, afraid of showing the village how weak she was now. Her muscles were knots, her mind as flaccid as an empty water sack.

Jowē's eyes glittered. The old woman turned slightly, looking at Reiho. Daiya threw a mental wall around the boy. Fire burned through it as the Merging Ones seized him, hurling him into the air. Daiya screamed. Reiho fell to the ground, smashing an arm against the side of a rock. He staggered to his feet. His lifesuit was still protecting him, but she could feel his fear. His skin was pale and yellowish. He opened his mouth. A keening sound reached her.

He was seized again. His limbs waved, his legs wobbled. He danced like a puppet. The Merging Ones, realizing that he was protected from physical harm, were attacking his mind directly. His arms and legs twisted bonelessly.

—No—Daiya thought, pushing her resistance at the villagers.—He's not a thing, stop it, don't hurt him—Jowē was reaching inside him, trying to crush his mind with a mental fist. He danced, lurching into the field, then toward her again.

Etey was suddenly torn away and thrown against the side of a ditch. She struggled as she slipped toward the muddy water, putting up a feeble mental wall with her atrophied powers. She would be pushed under the water; she would drown.

—You can't—Daiya cried at the villagers. Then she understood what she would have to do. Everything slowed around her. Etey's hand clawed at the slippery mud, Reiho's arms waved slowly, Jowē's eyes closed and then opened. Daiya had only one weapon left; her knowledge. Giving it to the village now would rob her of that one advantage, her knowledge of the power that lay under the mountains. The Merging Ones, once they learned of it, might destroy her with that power. But it was her only chance; she had to show them the truth.

She summoned her strength, calling on the machines. She dropped her wall and threw the vision at the village, forcing them to see what lay beneath the mountains. The gold and crystal pillars gleamed before them; the long hallway stretched out in front of them. The air hummed and the gauzy veils of light fluttered.

And then the minds spoke, answering Daiya's silent appeal:/ We are where your power lies / Another vision appeared; machines and people were erecting the pillars. / You built us /

A scream rose in a thousand throats; the force of the vision and voice was too powerful to be denied or thought false. / You built us long ago. We are the pathway to the mindrealm, the source of your power. You have forgotten us, and take only the smallest part of what we have to offer/ The sorrow Daiya had felt before was in the voice again. / You have buried us under stone and denied our existence. You have sought to divide yourselves from your own handiwork/

Jowē was crumpling to the earth, hands over her face. An old man fell near her. Daiya called on the machines again.

The new vision was of the comet in black space, a cosmic forest, giant trees growing where nothing should grow. /This is the home of your visitors. Most of your species dwells far from Earth. You are the smallest part of humankind/ For a moment, Daiya thought she heard the voice of Homesmind speaking through the machines. The vision grew blurry, then disappeared. / We have much to teach you. Do not turn from us again/ It was a plea. The voice faded.

Other Merging Ones now lay on the ground. The blue eyes of one old man stared sightlessly at Daiya. She got to her feet, looking around slowly. Fayl lay a few paces from her. She went to his side and stood over the blind man.—I saw—he thought. He turned his face from her. His mind was gone before she could grasp it. Numbly, she walked away from his body. Etey was tugging at her lifesuit as she climbed out of the ditch, shaking the mud from her; it slithered like snakes over the silver. Reiho, farther off, was very still.

Daiya ran toward him, hearing the wails of the village behind her. She reached out frantically for his mind, unable to touch it. She heard the sound of Etey's boots pounding the earth behind her. Daiya fell at Reiho's side and touched his shoulder. She turned him over gently. His dark eyes stared up at her from under half-closed lids.

—He's dead—She looked up at Etey and tried to speak. Her mouth opened, exhaling a bit of life. She gulped at the air. “He's dead, they killed him.” Her chin sank to her chest. Her limbs were stone.