Authors: Pamela Sargent
Homesmind (2 page)
Reiho leaned forward, looking concerned. He was the closest thing to a father Anra had; she had grown up with him and Daiya and still shared their hut. Now she saw him as someone apart; death separated him from the village. Reiho and the other cometdwellers would live on for as long as they chose, while the villagers would age and die. That fact suddenly seemed a cruel joke.
—You mustn't feel that way— Reiho thought. He had been the first skydweller to come to Earth; he and Daiya, who had been the first of the Earthfolk to find him, had changed everything, yet he sat waiting for Cerwen to die.
—Pity the skydwellers— Cerwen was thinking. —They fear death, while we do not. I shall die only once, but a skydweller's terror may bring him a thousand small deaths—
—Cerwen— Anra laid her flowers near his hand. —Cerwen IviaRey— she said more formally. Cerwen's large frame had withered; the white beard on his brown face had grown thin. She remembered how strong he had seemed when she was little; the strength of his mind had masked the weakness of his body.
—Anra SillaHarel— he replied.
Anra shook her head. —Only Anra— She had never taken the names of the parents who had left her here.
—Silla is still my sister— Daiya said, —and Harel was my friend. They did what they thought was best for you—
—You are theirs— Cerwen said. One gnarled old hand reached up, tugging gently at Anra's black curls. —You have Silla's hair and Harel's blue eyes. You are their child—
—They should be here— Anra said, trying to keep her mind calm. —They could have come—
— They have spoken to me through the Minds. They have tugged at the Net and said their farewells. I do not reproach them— The old man sighed.
—You don't have to die— she said suddenly. —Ask the skydwellers to restore your body. You know they can do it. They have tools here, or they could take you to their world and heal you—
—I am too old to wander the sky—
—Reiho is here. Let him help you—
—He refuses my help— Reiho thought, looking down.
Cerwen covered his chest with one arm. —I'm tired, child. Touch my mind and feel my weariness. I saw my partner Rilla die long ago and have outlived my children. My old friends are gone. I've seen the village change and have made my peace with it. Now my mind is too weary even to heal my pain. A long life here isn't for me. I'll live on elsewhere, and my soul will still speak to you through the Minds under the mountains yonder. You mustn't be unhappy—
—The Minds preserve only a pattern of what you were—
—And what else do you call a soul?—
—They'll keep only Their memory of you—
—I hear a voice— Cerwen thought. Anra tensed; the old man's words were forceful. —It calls me to join the merging souls. My time is past, a cycle is ending. I sense God reaching for me and hear the voices of those who have already been swallowed. I am being called—
Daiya's eyes widened; Cerwen's words had clearly disturbed her. —What do you hear?— Daiya's mind whispered.
— The voice of One who swallows thoughts. God, the Merged One, is calling to all—
Anra shook her head; her great-grandfather's failing mind was deceiving him. —You can live— she said desperately. —I won't let you go—
—Stop—
Anra turned. Leito SeyiNen had entered the hut. The slender old woman hobbled forward; villagers drew back as Leito slowly sat down near her old friend.
—He can live— Anra protested.
—Be silent— Leito's green eyes were so fierce that Anra had to look away. —You don't mourn Cerwen, Great-granddaughter. You mourn your own loss. You're only thinking of yourself—
—No— Anra said.
—My time will also come soon— Leito continued. —I'll have my mind on the next world, where I'll be reunited with my old partner Morgen, and I won't want to hear you berating me— Anra raised her head, surprised. Leito had rarely thought of Morgen, the great-grandfather Anra had never known, who had died before she was born. —If you cannot bring comfort to Cerwen now, then close your mind until you can. Do you want to be a child forever, crying for what you have lost? I hat doesn't ease the dying—
Anra wanted to run from the hut. She raised her mental wall, trying to be still. Cerwen motioned to Leito's son Vasen; the stocky man stretched out a hand.
—I must rest— Cerwen said; his thoughts were almost too weak to catch. —I shall have more rest soon enough—
Daiya motioned to Anra. They stood up, following the other villagers out of the hut; only Leito remained behind.
Reiho prepared supper as Daiya set bowls and cups on the table. Some of the food came from the synthesizer in Reiho's shuttlecraft, which sat outside the hut; the rest was village food. Reiho could tolerate Earth's fruit, vegetables, and grain, but like all skydwellers, he could not bear to cat meat.
—I'm not hungry— Anra said as she sat down on the bench, pushing her bowl away. Daiya shrugged as she seated herself and reached for the jar of wine. Reiho set out a bowl of fruit and some bread.
—We cannot help Cerwen by starving— Daiya replied, but Anra could see that her aunt was forcing herself to eat.
—You can help him— Anra said to Reiho, —But you don't—
Reiho's dark eyes were sad. He rubbed at his hairless chin; unlike most of the men in the village, he wore no beard. —I can do nothing without Cervven's consent. We must allow people to choose their own way—
"You could make the decision for him," Anra said aloud, afraid that she could no longer control her thoughts if she mindspoke. "He would thank you afterward."
"Are you so sure?" Reiho said. "His mind is clear and he knows what he wants. Kven my people sometimes choose to die. He might curse me if I ignore his wishes— he might even take his own life then."
"He would feel his old strength return, and change his mind."
"I can't decide such things for another."
"You decided them for me, didn't you—for me and for others when we were infants. You and others wanted us to live here and learn both Earth's ways and the ways of your kind. So here we are, outcasts to the rest of Earth and outsiders to your people. You didn't ask us what we wanted."
"It was that," Reiho said, "or consigning those like you to death. You know how separate selves are treated even now. Many still die."
"But aren't you choosing death for Cerwen?"
"He's choosing it," Daiya said. "You weren't capable of choosing."
Anra looked down. She had always known that her great-grandfather would die someday and yet had refused to believe it, hoping that, when the time came, he might choose to live.
"I understand," Reiho said, catching her escaping thoughts. "You thought he would choose to change, but change takes time. You and your friends will come to see that. We wanted you to be a bridge between our two peoples. You've heard that many times. But you can't expect change to come quickly." He rested his head in his hands. Anra touched his thoughts. He also wanted Cerwen to live, yet he respected the old man too much to go against his wishes. She reached out with her mind, wanting to comfort her guardian.
"I hope that we can be what you expect," Anra said, "but even here, people still fear change." She turned toward her aunt. "You've lived with Reiho all these years, and you still cling to old ways. He could give you youth and strength. Why haven't you taken it?"
"You know why," her aunt replied. Daiya's wall was up now. "Something in me still fears such tampering with the body." Daiya, Anra knew, was hiding her deeper fear—that changing herself would separate her too much from her own people. If, however, she remained as she was, Reiho would have to see her age and die.
"I have seen death before," Daiya continued as if hearing Anra's thoughts. "I've seen more than you can imagine. I've shielded you from many of my memories, but perhaps I should have shared them with you. You would see that there are worse things than a peaceful death." She paused. "We've been fortunate during these past years. Our village has known some peace, and none of us has been ready to die until now. You weren't prepared for what must happen."
"But it doesn't have to happen," Anra said.
"Then in time you will change it." Reiho reached for Daiya's hand. "Perhaps Daiya is right. We protected you and the others here too much. It seemed there was enough suffering in life without adding to it. Maybe we made a mistake."
Daiya suddenly stiffened as Anra tensed; Reiho's eyes widened. The mental Net linking the villagers was tugging at them all.
—Cerwen— Daiya thought.
They hurried along the dirt path. A large group of villagers had already gathered outside Cerwen's hut; a shuttle stood near the doorway. Anra made her way through the crowd, Reiho and Daiya trailing her, and entered.
Leito was holding Cerwen's hand; Vasen hovered over her, his green eyes reflecting his mother's sadness. Deene, Vasen's partner, was leaning against a walking stick, her old body stooped. Several other people were hidden in the shadows.
A woman wearing a skydweller's silver suit was kneeling next to the old man. This woman was Lydee, Anra's other aunt, the only Earthperson to have grown up with the skydwellers on their world before returning to her own. Lydee had also been born a separate self at a time when the village still condemned such children to death; her sister Daiya had saved her life by giving her to the skydwellers.
"Cerwen," Lydee whispered.
—I'm happy you are here— Cerwen said. —Forgive me the sins I've committed against you—
"I forgave them long ago." Lydee clutched his shoulder. "Grandfather, there is still time. You can choose to live. Tell me you will, and I'll help you—please."
—There is no time— the old man replied faintly. —This cycle is ending and the Merged One calls. I go without regrets. I've tried to do what I thought right even after losing faith in what I once believed. God will see that—
"Then I'm forced to accept this." Lydee covered her eyes.
Cerwen sighed.
—No— Anra cried out as she took a step toward him. Reaching out with her mind, she tugged at the thin strands of Cerwen's thoughts, trying to hold him.
—You must let go, child— Cerwen said. —Show me that you have the courage to live without mourning what is lost. Promise that you'll be strong—
Anra swallowed. —I'll try— She struggled to give the words conviction. —I promise— I he promise had eased him. Reluctantly, she let go.
—Good-bye— Cerwen closed his eyes. The Net snapped; one thread was gone. Outside, a few villagers sent up their prayers.
TWO
The villagers had gathered near the edge of the fields. Clouds of dirt floated up, then fell lightly over the open grave, covering Cerwen's body. The dirt settled in a mound as the villagers' minds released it. Anra heard a whimper; one of the younger children was crying. A man knelt down to comfort the boy.
—Do not weep— Leito said; she was now the oldest of the villagers. —Cerwen is at peace— Lydee had her hands over her face; her friend Marellon led her away, bowing his head to hide his own tears. Anra stared at the grave, unable to weep. —Farewell— Leito whispered. The little boy sitting at her feet, feeling the sad thoughts around him, suddenly began to cry.
— There, Chal— Vasen murmured as he picked up the child. Leito leaned against Deene, then turned toward the village as others began to return to their huts.
Anra watched them go. She now saw how old many of the villagers were. Most of them were people whose children had been grown before Anra had been born; they had chosen to stay there to help raise the ones like her. Most of them would not live much longer; without the aid of the skydwellers, they could expect only a few more years. Those Anra's age would be almost alone in the village then.
—The Minds under the mountains will still be with us— Fiella said. The red-haired girl's parents and older sister had already left, but Fiella lingered at Anra's side. —They can guide us—
Anra blinked; her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She tried to compose herself, recalling her last promise to Cerwen.
—We have to go on— Fiella continued, —begin to decide things for ourselves. Maybe when other old ones die, we'll be able to reach out to the rest of Farth more easily. You know how many of them try to protect us—
Anra glanced at her friend, surprised by the heartlessness of Fiella's thoughts. —What about the young ones who look upon the oldest ones here as their parents? It'll be hard for them—
—We'll care for them and teach them, and maybe some of the people who left here will return and bring others with them—
—By then— Anra thought, —the cometdwellers will have left us, too—
—They won't all leave—
—When their new comet is ready for them, even someone like Reiho might decide to go— Anra had often sensed his longing for his old home. Only Daiya and his sense of duty had kept him here.
—Homesmind will stay— Fiella replied. Anra glanced up at the two streaks in the night sky. —It may be that we'll go to live on Homesmind's comet when the people there now have gone. Earth's only one world. There are others—
Anra lay on her mat. Through the spaces under her hut's roof, she could see the light of the sun; she had slept deeply. She opened her mind, touching the village's Net.
Cerwen was dead. Her chest heaved. He was gone and she could not bring him back. She was suddenly angry with the village for allowing it. Leito had spoken of the life beyond even before the grave had been dug; Anra had been enraged at the meaningless words, which had only hidden the truth. She closed her eyes for a moment, too stunned to cry, and her anger faded. The grief of others was as great as her own; she could not blame them for easing the pain of Cerwen's passing with a belief in another life.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Lydee and Daiya were sitting at the table, communing silently. Anra glanced toward the entrance to the small room where Daiya and Reiho slept and sent out a tendril of thought; Reiho was not there. She sat up suddenly, realizing how late it must be.
Daiya turned her head. —It's almost midday— she thought, gently reproaching the girl.
Anra went to the table and sat down. Daiya moved a plate of bread toward her; Anra held up a hand.
—You must eat sometime— Daiya said. Anra reached for the food, then froze as she thought of Cerwen, hating herself for being hungry.
Her great-grandfather had told her not to mourn. She tore off a small piece of bread and began to eat. Her aunts had enough sorrow; she could not have the two women worrying about her as well.
She lifted her head, sensing the thoughts of others; two visitors were approaching the hut. An auburn-haired woman entered, followed by a man with a reddish-brown beard. Anra gazed at their familiar faces as each raised a hand to greet her.
The woman was Luret NenlaKal, Fiella's older sister; the man was Marellon BariWil, Fiella's uncle and Lydee's companion. The two, along with Luret's partner Wiland IeuaGeve, had chosen to wander the Earth with Lydee, returning to the village with the solitary children the rest of Earth did not want. They were the village's only connection with the rest of the world.
—You've come to tell me we must leave again— Lydee said, picking up the thoughts of her two friends as they sat down.
—Stay— Daiya said.
—We can't— Luret replied. —We had to leave Wiland behind in one village. He's trying to persuade two people not to put their solitary child to death— Her shoulders sagged. —Too many solitaries still die—
—Too many are killed— Marellon said.
Anra caught the sorrow in Luret's thoughts. She and Wiland could have settled in another village and had their own children; they were normal Earthpeople and would have been accepted by another community, but they had chosen to try to rescue others instead. Anra could feel Luret's devotion to that purpose; even now her concern for others was stronger than her desire for her own life. Underneath her sorrow there was also rage against those who would condemn helpless solitary infants to death, an anger that the gentle Luret managed to control, but that also strengthened her dedication to her task.
Marellon, in turn, had linked his life to Lydee's, and she, like all skydwellers, refused to bear children. The children of cometdwellers were carefully nurtured in artificial wombs; Lydee thought of childbearing with repugnance.
Luret's thoughts were growing calmer, but Anra could sense her regrets. The woman had put off living her own life, feeling that there would be time for it later; now she was a wanderer, her old home merely a resting place from time to time.
—True— Luret thought, answering Anra's musings. She smiled, but her green eyes were expressionless. —What I do is more important, though. I can't ignore the calls. Sometimes I reach out through the Minds and hear voices from all the world, calling out for the rescue of those infant separate selves, or for answers to questions and doubts. I can't turn away from them—
—I can't, either— Marellon said, —but there are times when I wish I could— His thoughts, as usual, were tinged with anger and sharpened by doubt. —So many still want nothing to do with this village or the sky-dwellers—
Lydee touched his shoulder. —At least now they don't try to harm us, as they did at first—
—They also don't speak to this village through the Minds, although they could. I've touched many thoughts during this trip, Lydee. Those who see you as a sky-dweller to be feared sometimes open their minds to me. Some believe that the skydwellers will steal our Minds from us. Others say that this village and the separate selves in it threaten the unity God intended Earth to have. They may accept the Minds, but many still refuse to believe that ancient Earthfolk built Them, and think instead that God gave Them to us. A few even claim that this world will come to an end—
— They fear change— Lydee said. —Their old customs and beliefs helped them to survive, and they're afraid to give them up. When they see that change won't destroy this world, they'll accept it—
—I'm not so sure— Marellon's brown eyes narrowed. "Let me give you some advice," he said aloud to Anra. "You and your friends might do well to prepare yourselves for a life in the heavens with skydwellers. Except for this village, you will never be welcome anywhere on Earth."
—Don't tell her that— Daiya objected. —Earth is Anra's home—
Anra leaned forward. —Yes, we could escape. We could live for many cycles there, without death. But we would take the only refuge of the separate selves you rescue with us— Her thoughts were too pointed; she had wounded the man. She touched his mind, trying to ease his guilt at having spoken so harshly before. —I see what you really think. Your anger formed those words, not your true self. You wouldn't want us to abandon this village—
—My anger will pass— Marellon said. —I'm too impatient—
Lydee rose. —Farewell, sister— she said to Daiya, then turned toward Anra. —Walk outside with me—
Anra went outside with her aunt, followed by Marellon and Luret. Lydee's shuttle was standing in the road. Lydee motioned her two friends inside, then led Anra to the side of the craft as its door closed behind the pair.
"Maybe I was too hard with Marellon," Anra said. "Sometimes I've thought we should go to the skydwellers' world."
"No. You were right to show him your thoughts." Lydee sat down next to the shuttle's runners. "You saw how his words hurt Daiya. Many whom she loved died during the time of discord here before you were born. Our own parents were lost—our father Brun and our mother Anra, the one for whom you were named." Anra seated herself. "When she hears someone speak of running away, she thinks of them, and wonders if they died for no reason."
"I know."
"You and I have held similar thoughts. I was born here, and I've lived here for more than fifteen years since my return, and yet I find myself raging at Earth's obstinacy. I didn't want to see Cerwen die. I wanted to force him to live."
Anra swallowed.
"But skydwellers are obstinate as well. Many want to forget Earth and return to roaming among the stars." Lydee averted her brown eyes. "I was afraid to come back to the village this time, because I knew Cerwen would not choose to live and I wanted to hide from his death. Other cometdwellers came to know him and yet not one, except for Reiho, came to his side." She sighed. "I've seen death, I've seen birth. I have to dampen my dreams or the blood would drown me. I reek of this world's dirt. But you give me some hope, Anra. You can look to both cometdwellers and Earthfolk, see the good and the bad, take what you need from both peoples. That will make you stronger than either."
The words, which reminded Anra of the promise she had made to Cerwen, were disturbing. How would she ever keep such a promise? She had little strength to draw on.
"Maybe I should travel with you," Anra said. "My friends and I will have to learn how to reach out to the rest of Earth."
"Yes, you should. But my sister will need your comfort now. Perhaps next time. 'Lydee paused. "I may be stopping at a mountain village to the west on my way back. Silla has called to me through the Minds. She also needs comfort after our grandfather's death."
Anra tensed. "She could have come here."
"It's been a long time. She knew she could do nothing for Cerwen. And it would be hard for her to see you. You've never called out to her or to your father."
"They left me, didn't they?"
"They did what they thought they had to do. They had their reasons for leaving. Maybe they would have returned if they had thought you would welcome them."
"Well, I wouldn't." Anra kept her thoughts still, walling in her resentment. Her parents had known that she would be cared for; she had tried to understand their actions, but the pain of abandonment had still remained. It would be better not to reach out to two people who would only be strangers and who might reject what she had become.
Lydee stood up. "My parents wished for my death before Daiya gave me to the skydwellers. At least yours wanted you to live." She put a hand on the shuttle; the door opened. "Farewell, Anra."
Anra's friends had brought five of the younger children down to the river that ran past the village. The young ones were playing in the shallows; one boy lifted the water with his mind. A wave hung over him, then collapsed, drenching the boy, who squealed happily. One little girl began to paddle out toward deeper waters; Fiella caught her with strands of thought, keeping the child afloat as she drew her closer to shore.
—I spoke to Luret this morning— Fiella said. —She asked me if I might want to travel with her and Wiland sometime—
—I'd like to travel— Gennon thought. The brown-haired boy was sitting next to Paeter, who was mending a rip in a shirt with a bone needle. —Nothing ever happens here— Paeter bit off his thread and pulled on his cream-colored shirt.
Barla was standing in the water, pants rolled up to her knees as she watched the small children play. One blond girl splashed over to her. Barla picked up the naked child, wincing as the little girl pulled at her long, light brown locks.
Paeter stood up. —Mila's calling me—
Anra turned. Mila StenaFiel, Paeter's guardian, was walking along the bank toward them; the tall, handsome woman beckoned to the boy. Paeter picked up his bucket of water, peered inside at the fish he had caught earlier, then motioned to a small, chubby girl. —Naise— he called. —Time to go home—
Naise waded to the bank, picked up her tunic, and stumbled toward Paeter on stubby legs. Paeter knelt as Naise climbed onto his back.
Anra watched as they left with Mila. For the first time, she noticed how gray Mila's hair had grown. The tall woman's body was still strong, her face almost unlined, but she was aging. Anra shivered; she was seeing signs of age everywhere now.
Barla waved as she left the water and walked toward the huts, her foster brother and sister trailing her. She picked the two up with her mind; the children giggled as they floated over the ground. Gennon got up, summoning the two little boys who were left. —I'd like to see other places— he thought. —I might even want to go up there for a while— He glanced up at the sky.
—You might not come back— Fiella said.
Gennon shook his head; his long brown hair swayed. —Of course I would—
—You might not— the girl responded. —You know how few of them come here. Skydwellers can dream and soothe themselves with their potions and devices and make a game of life. They can look at this world through Homesmind's eyes and feel as though they're here, so why should they travel to Earth? You might do the same, Gennon. You might find their world so pleasant that you wouldn't want to leave. Every time you felt a longing for the village, you could dream of it—