Watchstar (7 page)

—I see—Cerwen went on, catching her thoughts as they were forming.—You are thinking that it is difficult to communicate with us while others are here, but they know our thoughts and we know theirs and part of what we think is what they think, and some of the thoughts you sense now are their thoughts. What does it matter if what I say comes from my mind or Leito's or Morgen's or another's, even I cannot always tell the difference. We seek unity, as you should—

The words were hard now, and sharp, stabbing her, scratching her.—You think too much of separateness and isolation. You are tempted by the evils in every human mind that would lead to anarchy and ruin if we gave in to them. You build your wall and do not think that if you build it too often and too thick that you will soon have a barrier which cannot so easily be breached, that even you may not be able to remove entirely—

Daiya shrank, pressing her forehead against her knees. Those thoughts were coming from Leito, made stronger by her greater unity with other Merging Ones.—You would build your wall now if you could, Daiya—

She gasped, realizing that was exactly what she was trying to do. Leito withdrew a bit. Daiya lifted her hands to her face; she was shaking, her forehead was wet.

—There is something in you—Leito went on. Her thoughts vibrated in Daiya's mind and she knew they were the thoughts of many Merging Ones.—There is something in you which we have all felt. It was weaker before, and now it has grown, and we shall tell you what it has done. We have thought, some of us, that we must take you and strip away every layer of consciousness, and root it out, even if it means your madness and death—Daiya froze, wanting to flee from the hut but unable to move, held by the power of many minds.—And others have thought that we must leave you to face it, to suffer the ordeal you must suffer and live through it or die, that your fate is in the hands of God. Do you understand what that means, you wretched girl—The thoughts were burning her, searing her. She whimpered and crumpled to the ground, pressing her cheek against the dirt floor.—There is a division, a separation, a disagreement among us, the Merging Ones, you are dividing us, you are drawing us away from the Merged One and closer to a world no more real than the dreams you have at night when you sleep—

Daiya gasped for air, feeling the words would crush her. She clutched at the floor, then felt something cold against her cheek. A bubble of water was floating near her, held there by Morgen's mind. She opened her mouth and caught it. Refreshed by the cold water, she managed to sit up again.

—I believe you must come to terms with yourself—Cerwen thought, as gently as he could.—Your ordeal approaches. If you cannot overcome this deficiency, you will die. If you do overcome it, you will come back and take your place among us and merge with us as you grow closer to reality. To tear at your mind now would almost certainly condemn you to death and separateness as well. My reasoning, at least, has convinced the others, though their feelings may not assent to it. I shall be right, one way or the other, and our division will be healed—

And whether I live or die makes no difference, Daiya thought bitterly in a tiny dark corner of her mind.

—That isn't true—Morgen thought. His words were warm and soft, calming her a little.—You are our granddaughter and we're concerned. Do you think we felt no pain when Rin died? We mourned your brother, mourned him deeply, but we were sure it was only a physical weakness or a mistake that killed him, and so we have the consolation of knowing he is reunited with God. But you have a dark place, and you may die condemned. That would be a greater grief. But if that's what must be, we can do nothing. You are our granddaughter, but we cannot cling to you against the world, and if you threaten our existence, we must cut you out as our minds destroy the malignant cells that sometimes grow in our bodies—His words now had claws.

Her head drooped. She folded her arms, feeling more alone than ever.

—No—Leito shot the word at her. It flared up like a sunburst, threatening to light even the dark spots inside her.—You are not alone, you are never alone, isolation is an illusion—Daiya felt as though the thought was being burned into her brain.

—What can I do—Her thoughts seemed feeble, pale weak things compared to the power of her grandparents’ thoughts.—What can I do—She looked from one face to another, pleading silently with them, wishing she could be as they wanted her to be.—Tell me, please. Do I need more training? I was going to leave again tomorrow, go part of the way with my friend Mausi—

—No—Cerwen responded.—You are skilled enough now, your mind is strong, perhaps too strong for one like you. Strong minds should belong only to those without questions, to those who seek communion with others. Stay here, rest, build up your body, and become part of the life of the village before you leave. Open your mind to others as often as you can. There is a boy here who loves you, seek him out and share things with him. You do not need more time by yourself away from here. Perhaps, if you do what we say, you can erase the darkness within you and save yourself—

Leito raised a hand, then got to her feet, and Daiya realized they were through with her. She watched her grandmother pad across the room to where the five old people sat; she knelt next to an old woman, putting an arm around her waist. Morgen rose, patted her on the cheek, and left the hut; he wanted to get back to his grapes. Cerwen stood up and held out a hand, helping her to her feet. Her knees shook; she tried to smile.

She wobbled out of the hut and steadied herself against a nearby tree. She looked around, surprised that the village was still the same. She opened her mind and caught wisps of thought from the huts nearest her; the jabber of children. Most of their parents were in the fields. She sighed. It was simple enough to be content. The Merging Ones knew what was best; the peaceful life of the village proved it.

She concentrated on the Net and felt it flex and hold her, binding her to the others. She pulled at the Net, thinking of beer and sweet berries and the river's cold waters and bugs and cats dancing and the sunshine. The Net glowed. She smiled as she thought of the Net humming with the pleasant images, cheering even those far away who could not quite catch them, the illusions of God, dreamed by the Merged One to make life more pleasant.

Harel came by after supper. He leaned against the hut while Daiya shooed the chickens they shared with their neighbors into the coop. She scooped up the last chicken and floated it in the air, listening to it cluck as it found itself flying. Harel laughed and she set the bird down, watching it scamper inside the coop.

Anra, tired from the day's work in the fields, sat with her back against the hut and her knees up as high as her belly would allow.—It's kicking again—her mind murmured as Daiya came to her.—How it kicks! I can often see the foot against my belly—She glanced from Daiya to Harel.—You two will be in your own home soon, and you, Daiya, will be as swollen as this, and very soon—

Harel stared frankly at Anra. Daiya sensed that his friendliness to her mother had an erotic tinge to it. She smiled. Harel, straightforward as always, could hide nothing from anyone else; the whole village now knew they would live together. She clung to her mother's serenity, warmed by it. Anra was sure her daughter would survive the ordeal, would overcome the dark spot in her character. Any doubts she had were easily dismissed; to her, Brun was a worrier. Daiya would live or she would be one with God, and either was good.

—Don't keep holding up the hut—Anra said, waving Harel away from the wall.—You and Daiya want to go, so go—Harel took Daiya's hand and they left quickly, dancing down the paths among the huts toward the river.

—I love you—she thought, trying to lose herself in his mind.—You're the only one I ever loved this much—

—I suppose that's why you used to hide in the fields last year with Sude IeuaGeve and kiss him—he thought, teasing her.

—I never felt this way about Sude. Anyway, his mind—

—dances too much—Harel thought, completing the sentence.

She frowned, wondering if Sude would survive the ordeal.

—Of course he will, Daiya, someday we'll all be Merging Ones together—Harel kicked and spun himself like a top, digging a hole with his feet. He lifted his feet from the ground and hovered over her, then alighted on the path.

They reached the river and followed it north, away from the village. At last Harel stopped and pointed at a small hill overlooking the distant fields. They climbed up and rested under the small grove of trees at the top of the hill. From here, she could see the thatched roofs of the village's huts, made pink by the sunset.

Harel cleared a space on the grassy ground; twigs and stones drifted up and floated, then settled on the earth in clumps. The two sat down, heads together, arms around each other. Daiya sighed contentedly, allowing her thoughts to ramble aimlessly. Cerwen was right, all the Merging Selves were right. There was no need to question. The village would endure for as long as God wished, for as long as God dreamed it. Some would die and rejoin the Merged One as other parts of God's consciousness took their places, and the world would be the same. The village, part of the illusion, was a reflection of eternity. She breathed the clear air, smelling wildflowers and pine cones, feeling for a moment at peace with it all. She and Harel would raise their children and become Merging Selves; she would be more like Leito.

Harel too was thinking of the Merging Ones.—My grandmother spoke to me last night—he murmured to her.—But she did not bring me to the others as your grandfather did, she spoke to me as I lay on my mat preparing to sleep and told me I would live. My mind seemed to leave my body as she spoke, and met hers, and she lifted me above the village and for a moment I saw it with her eyes and I saw that only the physical matter of it altered, new crops, new huts, new animals, new bodies, but that its essence was eternal. Time stopped for me as I looked, I felt near God. I was no longer Harel KaniDekel, that was only a name given to a spirit-body inside the mind of the Merged One, and I saw that death too is an illusion. I knew I could accept what God wills for me—

—What do you see in me—she asked.

—There is unreality in you, a dark spot, as if part of you was stone, hard and unyielding. But I believe reality will overcome it—He drew her to the ground, pressing against her.—I have no fear for you. The Merging Ones spoke to you, and they were right. When you see the village as I have, when you draw closer to it and remove your wall, the stone within you will crumble into warm, growing earth and you will live, our ordeal will only be part of the dust, the dirt blown away by the wind. I love you, Daiya—

She lost herself in his mind. She hovered with him over their bodies as they grappled with each other, removing their clothes. She saw her dark skin against his paleness, feeling his hands on her as she touched the muscles of his back. She was Harel; she sensed his mind disappearing inside hers. She clutched him as she felt eternity and merged with him. He was a flame, she was a flame; they flared together, they were one. She cried out and heard the cry from his lips; the Net held them, vibrating.

Harel withdrew. She was still as he ran his hand over her abdomen; his eyes were sad and distant.—You held part of yourself away from me—he thought, and his face seemed to darken in the shadows.—Even then, there was a part of you I could not reach, that I can never reach—She sensed a darkness in his mind, as if she had infected him with loneliness and dimmed his brightness.

—I'm sorry, Harel, it wasn't deliberate—She held him tightly as if to make up for it. He turned over on his back and she rested on his chest, then lifted her head to look at him.

He smiled, and she felt his warmth return; the dark spot disappeared.—Maybe I don't make love to you enough—He touched her cheek and she knew he had reassured himself.—That's what it is. I'll make love more often and drive that part away—

Harel was right, she thought sleepily. God had given people this way of drawing together, first as couples, later as groups of Merging Ones. She lay against him, thinking of the joy the Merging Selves must know, the converging minds and bodies. She closed her eyes, tired and calm, at peace...

Daiya awoke. Harel's arm was draped over her hip. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she removed his arm and sat up.

Harel slept soundly, his handsome face serene, his wall up so that his dreams would not disturb her. The night was still warm, but it would get cooler. She picked up his shirt and covered him with it. His mind rippled a bit and was still.

She stretched out her arms, then leaned back, peering at the blackness of the tree limbs above her. She crept out from under the trees and surveyed the landscape. The huts of the village huddled together, drowsy beasts hiding in the shadows. Watchfires burned just beyond the fields, sparks against the darkness, tended by Merging Ones and villagers wanting to master new mindcrafts before going to sleep. The crescent of Luna's Bow hung above the mountains as the moon turned her face from the earth she guarded. The comet burned in the sky, marking another boundary.

Daiya trembled. The numbness inside her swelled, mingling with terror. Harel stirred restlessly behind her and she hid behind her wall. Isolation gripped her, tightening the muscles between her shoulders, and she thought: this is true, everything else is a dream. Luna was waning, the stars were only specks; the comet gleamed, alone.

She crawled back under the trees and huddled next to Harel.

6

Daiya lay on her mat, sensing the awakening village. She hung suspended, floating, on her mat and yet adrift, ready to dive down into sleep or emerge into wakefulness. She thrust out her legs, then curled up again. Her tunic strained against her shoulders. Something moved near her. She opened her eyes.

Pale sunlight shone through the doorway. Silla, already up, had toddled across the room and now sat under the table, eating a corn cake. She smacked her lips and crumbs tumbled from her fingers. Daiya pulled her tunic down over her bare rump and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Then she remembered.

Today there would be a feast. Tomorrow she would set out with the others toward the desert.

In the corner next to her mat, she found the hooded cream-colored tunic, fabric woven by Anra, cut and sewn together by Brun, that she was to wear. A pair of light brown trousers were folded under it. She got up, pulled off her old tunic, and put on the new clothes. She bent her head forward and began to comb her hair with her fingers, smoothing the unruly curls. Silla watched her solemnly. Daiya waited, wondering what prank her sister was going to play today, but Silla's mind was quiet and subdued. She had felt the mood of the village. She was thinking about good food and wine and recalling dimly that there had been a feast before Rin left and that Rin had never returned.

—Mausi's coming here—Silla thought but Daiya already knew that. She pulled on her moccasins and went to the door. Mausi was approaching with Nenla BariWil. Mausi put up her wall; Daiya caught a feeling of fear. Nenla seemed concerned.

Daiya went outside to meet them, putting up her own wall. She was beginning to feel completely unprepared for the ordeal, in spite of having spent so much time trying to clear her mind. I'll never get through it, she thought, I'm going to die.

Mausi gazed at her sadly.—We'll get the best food today we've had all this cycle—she thought.—And I won't be able to eat any of it—

Nenla shook her head; a smile appeared on her round freckled face.—Yes, you will—she responded.—You'll look at all the food and eat out of nervousness, I stuffed myself before going, I figured I could survive on my fat alone—

Mausi's blonde head drooped.—I couldn't sleep. I prayed all night—she thought.—I kept thinking, one way or another, it'll be over soon—Her mouth twisted.

Daiya looked at her, feeling as though Mausi might suddenly go out of control. Rin had, during his feast, hurling earthen plates and goblets until a few Merging Selves grabbed him and held his mind. She wondered if that incident had anything to do with his death during the ordeal, when control of oneself was so important.

Nenla put a hand on Mausi's shoulder.—You will become an adult, or you will join the Merged One, remember that. I'll tell you the truth, I don't know who is more fortunate—Nenla's mind was serene and open; she meant it.

Daiya wrinkled her eyebrows.—It's true—Nenla went on.—Daiya, you doubt too much—

Mausi seemed a bit reassured. Nenla gestured at Daiya and they began to walk toward the eastern fields, winding their way past huts where preparations for the feast were already going on. They passed a few young women and men up early, heading west for the river; they carried buckets in which they would store the fish that would leap from the water, captured by their minds. They smelled baking bread and roasting chickens and warm fruit tarts.

As they reached the edge of the village, Daiya saw the small thin frame of Oren KiyEde in the distance, heading toward the plains. Mausi signalled to him mentally and then took off toward him, running quickly beside one of the water-filled ditches, saying goodbye to Nenla and Daiya as she ran.

Nenla spotted a nearby strawberry patch and sat down abruptly, smoothing back her red hair. She pulled berries off the bush and plopped them into her mouth. Her face grew serious.

—I wanted to see you before the feast—she said, surveying Daiya with her slate-gray eyes.—I wanted to wish you well. You're strong, so don't ask questions, just go and face it and you'll live. Don't fill your mind with doubts, not now—

—You used to have questions once—Daiya answered.

Nenla drew her pale brows together.—I had them because I held too much of myself apart. The Merging Selves brought me to them and showed me my error—

Daiya searched her friend's mind, not sure what she hoped to find. Nenla bit into another berry, savoring the fruit, musing about the hut she shared with Daiya's cousin Kal DeenēVasen. She was thinking of Kal, content.

—Don't you ever wonder, even now—Daiya asked.

—Why should I wonder? When you face your ordeal, you will know how foolish your doubts are. You'll return here, and you'll become part of us, and you'll see how good life is—

—So you think I'll live—

Nenla threw her a few berries.—Who am I to say? I can't see you joining the Merged One yet, that's all. One who holds too much of herself apart from other people can't rejoin the mind of God yet—

Daiya noticed that Nenla had avoided saying that she might be condemning herself to eternal isolation in death, separated from everything.

The red-haired girl got up.—I'll see you at the feast—she thought.—Try to remember, Daiya, the ordeal cannot kill you and it cannot unite you with the Merged One, only you can do that. You will face yourself and you will know what you are, and you'll ask no more questions—

The villagers were winding their way through the fields, floating bowls, plates, and goblets above their heads. Pigs and sides of beef were roasting on spits over fires in the clearing just beyond the fields. Wooden tables, brought out earlier, stood near the spits and were heaped high with berries, corn cakes, peaches, and bread. Casks of wine were next to the tables, guarded by Morgen and other Merging Selves.

Daiya watched as the villagers approached. They were a river, flowing together. Tributaries of small children broke away from the main branch, running alongside the others before rejoining the main stream.

She went to a table, taking her place at the head of it. There were seven long tables, because seven young people were undergoing the ordeal. They pointed east, toward the foothills, toward the mountains. The sun, low in the sky behind her, warmed her back. She gazed at the mountains, the wall separating them from the desert.

She glanced at the table to her left. Mausi stood there, her face tight, hollows under her eyes, her pale face almost white in spite of the pinkness of the evening light. Daiya could feel her friend's fear.

She shielded herself quickly. Mausi, she realized, could easily infect everyone with her terror. She was beginning to see why everyone put up walls during the feast, why everyone, except the Merging Ones, had to use a voice even to speak.

She looked away from Mausi and turned toward the table on her right, touching Harel's mind briefly. He smiled. There was no fear in him; he welcomed the ordeal confidently, glad he would at last be a man, a part of the village, and eventually the father of her children. Reassured, she turned back, feeling no hunger as she looked at the food and smelled the roasting meat. She would eat anyway, until she was bursting, fortifying herself for the ordeal.

People were suddenly around her, flowing among the tables, crowding against one another as they seated themselves on the benches. Many of the smaller children sat on the ground near their parents. Daiya's parents sat next to her, Anra on her right, Brun, with Silla, on her left. Farther down the table, she saw her uncle, Vasen LeitoMorgen, crowd himself in with Nenla and Daiya's cousin Kal DeenēVasen. Vasen waved at her, staring down the table with large green eyes like Leito's. The faces at the other end of the table were indistinct, paces away.

The Merging Selves were wandering from table to table with platters of beef and pork. Several people rose and began to help themselves to wine. Daiya, disoriented by the loud uncustomary babble of voices, kept her seat. She and the other young people would be served soon enough; it was their feast. Anra handed her bread and fruit; a plate of meat and a bowl of fish soup appeared in front of her. She looked up; Cerwen was handing her a large goblet of wine. She caught the murmur of a child's mind, quickly subdued by an adult.

She gulped down the soup. She tore at the meat with her hands and teeth, followed it with bread, swallowed some wine. She peered at Harel, who was eating heartily, laughing as his father told him a joke. She looked over at Mausi. The blonde girl was still and stiff, pushing the food on her plate around with a finger. “Daiya!” She turned and saw her aunt Deenē lift a goblet to her, smiling.

Vasen got up. Those near him crowded together on their bench as he made his way over it. Still gnawing at a piece of beef, he wandered over to Daiya. He put a greasy hand on her shoulder and smiled. She smiled back. He gestured at her plate. “A good appetite,” he said as Daiya stuffed the last piece of meat into her mouth. “A good appetite's always a good sign.”

The food sat in her stomach like a stone. Anra handed her a chicken leg and more bread and she forced herself to eat it. She thought: I could close my eyes and know Anra and Vasen are brother and sister, they have the same untroubled mind. But she could not look into their minds now. Anra rested a slim hand on her brother's chubby one. She did not have to look into their minds. There was the same serene confidence in her mother's brown eyes and her uncle's green ones. They were the survivors. Daiya thought of the others, Leito's and Morgen's dead children, the three uncles and the aunt she had never known, had seen only briefly in Anra's memory, dimly recalled young people who had left for the desert and joined the Merged One. Who died, she thought, surprised at the force of the words.

Vasen ambled back to where his son Kal sat with Nenla. The two young people were smiling, heads close together, taking food from each other's plates. Merging Ones roamed from table to table, helping themselves to a piece of pork from one plate, a peach from another.

She heard a choking, gasping sound and turned. Mausi was vomiting, doubled over on her stool, her head held by her mother Lina. Daiya sat watching, paralyzed, hardly able to believe it. Vomiting was such an easy thing to control; it was only done voluntarily, to clear the body of bad food or a sickness. Mausi retched, took a breath, closed her eyes, and rested her head on Lina's chest. Daiya turned away. Everyone at the table was stiff and quiet for a moment. Then they turned back to their food, speaking to one another almost too quickly. She wondered what they were thinking and was relieved she could not tell.

She peered at Mausi out of the corners of her eyes. Lina still held her, bringing a bowl of soup to her lips. Oren had wandered over from his table and stood there, gazing sadly at the blonde girl. Daiya began to rise; Brun restrained her, putting a hand on her arm. She stared at the mountains; the sky was growing dark.

Suddenly all the villagers rose to their feet. Daiya looked around uncertainly, then got up. Jowē TeiyeVese, the oldest Merging Self in the community, was hobbling to the head of each table, stopping to rest a hand on each young person facing the ordeal before moving on. She stopped near Mausi, placed a hand on the blonde head, then moved toward Daiya. Jowē's silver hair flowed over her shoulders; her blue-veined skin was pale and translucent, her small brown eyes as fierce and unfeeling as an eagle's. Her trousers and tunic, like her skin, were loose, falling in folds. She put her hand on Daiya's head. Daiya looked down at her feet, sensing Jowē's strength. The old woman went on to Harel's table.

Daiya knew the feast was over for her now. It's too soon, she thought desperately, I'm not ready. She waited, feeling her insides coil, wanting to freeze time and reprieve herself. Jowē reached the last table, then turned to face everyone.

—Tasso AreliJen—she called out. It wasn't just a name when the old woman thought it; the words hung in the air and rippled, sending out waves in all directions. It was a command. Tasso, a chubby brown-haired boy, went to Jowē.

—Peloren HiyaRaef—The name was inside Daiya, rolling through her. Jowē was not just Jowē; she had not been just that for a long time. She was every Merging Self in the village; she spoke through them, they spoke through her, their thoughts were her thoughts. Daiya knew that, for the old woman, the Net was not frail strands; it was heavy rope, binding her to the others, so strong that her mind had drawn close to others. She had not been an individual for many seasons; she had probably forgotten what separateness was. She was not Jowē; that was now only a name given to the wrinkled illusion wearing the wrinkled white clothes. She was the village.

Peloren, a stately, poised girl with sun-streaked brown hair, stood next to Tasso, making him look even chubbier.—Sude IeuaGeve—Sude darted over to Jowē and took a place behind her, hopping from one foot to the other, turning his head from side to side, glancing at everyone with dark restless eyes.

—Oren KiyEde. Mausi LinaPili. Harel KaniDekel—

—Daiya AnraBrun—

Daiya joined the others. Jowē turned quickly and began to move toward the plains, toward the mountains. The young people followed her, trailed by other Merging Ones carrying bottles. Daiya, looking back at the tables, saw the villagers sit down again, preparing to finish the food and wine before returning home. Brun, head down, was staring at his plate; Anra was feeding Silla a piece of bread. Nenla was standing by a bench, lifting a hand in farewell. Daiya tried to hold the sight in her mind; she might never see them again.

They kept walking. Mausi seemed steadier; her face was grim and set. Sude bounded from side to side, then lifted himself off the ground, soaring and swooping before landing again—using up his strength, Daiya thought sourly. Harel reached for her hand; his palm was dry. She touched his mind and felt a warm glow. Peloren's face was blank, her hazel eyes empty, her mind a glassy surface over storm clouds. Tasso puffed out his cheeks and smirked. Oren kicked a stone, grimacing as he stubbed his toe.

—You're happy—Daiya thought.

—I'm happy because we're together—Harel replied.—We'll go through this and come back and have our home together, we won't have to wait the way the others do—