Homesmind (4 page)

THREE

By morning, the air had turned cooler. Anra awoke with stiff muscles, regretting that she had not asked Jerod for one of the skydwellers' silver blankets. She stretched, then summoned her mindpowers, focusing on each ache inside her body until the pain was gone. Her banked fire was nearly out. She doused the charred wood with water, then covered it with dirt.

After rummaging in her pack, she took out a piece of dried meat and one of the packages Jerod's friends had given her. The meat was tough and salty; the skydweller food tasted of nuts and fruit. She washed it all down with water and refilled her waterskin at the brook near which she had slept.

She had flown part of the way into the foothills, but it had taken her nearly half the night to get this far. She yawned, still feeling tired. The sheer, barren cliffs of the mountains loomed above her. She had been in the foothills several times, but had never stood on the mountains themselves or seen the desert on the other side.

Her mind was still clinging to the tenuous strands of the village's Net; a small tug could summon her home. She sighed. Her grief over Cerwen's death, which had once throbbed inside her chest, was now a weight pressing against her. She would carry that weight over the mountains and rid herself of it on the other side. She would keep her promise to Cerwen, and mourn no more.

Opening her channel, she let the power of the Minds under the mountains flow into her, then lifted herself toward the peaks, floating up almost effortlessly. A recess in the rocks caught her eye; she landed there to rest a moment. The Minds could give her all the energy she needed, but there were limits on how much she could use at one time; her body imposed its own boundaries.

/Greetings, small mind/ the Minds whispered, then paused. There was an unfamiliar quality in Their tone, as if she had distracted Them from more important concerns. To Them, she was no more than a wisp of consciousness, hardly enough to disturb Them.

She floated up again, feeling that somehow she was being drawn toward the desert. Were the Minds pulling her there? Dimly, she felt an answering assent. /Another small mind is not far away/ the Minds murmured. She frowned. That voice had had a plaintive tone; she had even sensed some sorrow.

She was now near a peak. She landed, and the wind ruffled her hair. The desert was below her now, stretching to the east. She peered out, trying to discern a sign of life, and saw only a few prickly plants scattered over the desolate land. Taking a breath, she leaped out from the mountain and fell toward the sandy ground below, cupping one hand around her eyes to protect them. The air became a cushion underneath her. She stumbled a bit as she landed.

The desert reached to the horizon; the barren land rippled, distorted by the hot air. Anra pulled up the hood of her tunic and sat down to rest.

The sun had grown even warmer. Anra had waited, but whatever presence the Minds had sensed was still far away. She rose, adjusting her pack.

Once, the village had sent its young people out here to undergo what was called an ordeal. A small group of young people would travel to the desert; the Net of the village would then be taken from them while they were left to face the dark monsters their own fears would form.

Many had died during those ordeals; those left alive had returned to the village to assume the duties of adults. Only those capable of conquering their fears were able to survive. Those who lashed out in terror or who fled from the beast died, never realizing that their own fear had killed them and that the beast was inside their minds. It was a cruel custom, but one that had seemed necessary; those too rash or fearful would have wounded or divided a community with their uncontrollable thoughts.

Daiya had passed through such an ordeal herself, but the village had not imposed the rite on Anra and her friends, feeling that greater knowledge and understanding would impose their own restraints; they had also felt that life would have ordeals enough. Now Anra wondered if they might have been wrong. Daiya was aware both of her strength and of her limitations; Anra feared that she was not as strong as her aunt. Many villages, she knew, still practiced the custom of ordeals, though Lydee and her companions had tried to discourage it.

The sky was a painful blue. She walked alongside the mountains, looking for shade, then noticed a cave overhead. Daiya had shown her that cave in her memories; it led inside the mountains to the hidden pillars below. Daiya had sometimes gone there to commune with the Minds when she was young, but had neglected the cave since then. Anra turned east for a moment, then froze.

Something was moving on the horizon. Black specks circled above the distant ground; below them, a tiny figure swayed. The figure suddenly shrank, becoming a small, dark mound on the sand; the specks hovered, dropping lower. Anra continued to stare for a few moments until she realized what she was seeing.

She ran, lifting herself from the ground as she hurtled east. She might be in danger. This person could not be a skydweller; no skydweller would wander so far alone, without a shuttle. That meant the person had to be from another village, and she could not know how such a person would react to her. She shook off her fears as she flew. The stranger would be too weak to harm her.

She cried out at the large, black birds, scattering them as she approached. Warding them off with her thoughts, she landed next to the body as the birds fled.

She knelt, put her hand on the body's leather-clad shoulder, then turned it over gently on its side. The chest moved slightly; she felt an unconscious mind too weak to notice her presence, its thoughts nearly too faint to be heard. Carefully, she pulled back the hood a little and saw a boy's face. His skin was red and raw, his lips dried and cracked.

Pulling off her pack, she took out a water skin, poured a little water on her hand, then brushed it against the chapped lips. The boy moaned. She reached out with her mind, trying to revive him. His swollen lids opened a little; hazel eyes gazed up at her blankly.

She held the skin to his lips, allowing him only a sip, then crouched over his upper body, shielding him from the sun. How had he come here? Why was he alone in the desert? His mind was too weak to answer. She offered him more water, drawing the skin away after he had swallowed twice.

Slipping the pack under his head, she sat with him, shading him as much as she could. He was very weak; had a few more hours passed, she might not have been able to revive him. Even now, part of him was seeking to escape into death, longing for oblivion. She clung to his thoughts, willing him to live, then peered at him more closely. A knife, tucked into his belt, was all he carried— no food, no water.

At last he stirred; one hand fluttered feebly. She gave him a little more water. His thoughts were a bit stronger now; she would have to move him out of the sun.

—Can you hold on to me?— she asked. —Do you have the strength?—

—I think so— he answered faintly.

—I'm going to take you to the mountains— She slid the pack out and put it on, then draped one of his arms over her while holding him around the waist. Even in this state, he was sturdy and muscular; to lift him, she would need all the power the Minds could feed her. Gripping him tightly, she floated off the ground. She would take him to the cave she had seen. He was still resisting her, as if he did not want to be saved.

Anra sat in the mouth of the cave. The sun was behind the mountains; the desert land below was cloaked in long, violet shadows. The boy was still sleeping; he had managed to swallow more water before pillowing his head on her pack. The air was growing cold, and she rubbed her hands, longing for a fire.

The boy moved, then sat up slowly, resting his back against the cave wall. "Water," he said aloud.

She handed him the half-full skin; she had been giving him a little water each time he stirred. He grabbed it, took one gulp, then handed it back.

"Can you eat?" she asked.

"I think so." He spoke with an accent, biting off the ends of his words.

She searched through her pack, deciding that skydweller food might be easier for him to digest. Taking out a silver package, she began to peel away its covering.

"What is that?" the boy asked.

"Food."

He surveyed it suspiciously as he took it, then nibbled around the edges of the large, flat wafer. "I've never tasted anything like this before."

"It will give you strength."

His nose wrinkled, but he finished it, accepted another wafer, and drank more water. His hood had fallen from his head; his matted blond hair curled around his face and over the back of his neck. He toyed with the silver wrapping, twisting it with his fingers.

Anra chewed some dried fruit, following it with wine. "What is this?" the boy said as he handed her his wrapping.

"Only a covering for food."

The boy closed his eyes for a moment. "You are one of them, then."

"One of whom?" His mind was closed and she was afraid to touch it, worried that she might frighten him.

"One of those who consorts with the heavendwellers. There's a tiny, pulsing light inside you—it's part of your mind, yet apart from it also. I felt it before I closed my mind."

He had to be thinking of her implant. She sat very still, wondering what he would do. ,

"You needn't fear me," the boy went on. "You've saved my life. I should be grateful, but my life was over before you found me."

"Why were you out in the desert?"

He shook his head. "I'm too tired to talk." He curled up on the ground, his back to her.

She had slept uneasily, alert to the slightest movement, her head next to his on the pack, her body at right angles to his. In the morning light he looked a little healthier; his sunburned face was peeling, but his lips were starting to heal.

He opened his eyes and sat up. "I'm hungry."

"Good." She pulled out some dried fruit for him this time. He finished the water in the nearly empty skin while she sipped from another.

He still seemed reluctant to talk; again, his wall was up. "Where did you come from?" she asked as they ate.

"There." He pointed east.

"From the other side of the desert?" She could not hide her surprise. "But why?"

He looked away.

"What's your name?"

"Rulek." He paused, clearly about to say more. "Only Rulek. I'll no longer call myself by the rest."

"My name is Anra. I have no other name. My parents left me in my village and went elsewhere—I never knew them, so I don't use their names."

"We have a bond, then," the boy said coldly. "Our parents have both given us up."

She was curious again. Why would his parents have given him up? He had his mindpowers without needing the crutch of an implant. Had he been a temperamental, disobedient child, his impulses would have been tempered by now; disciplining a child was not difficult when a parent's trained mind could read an intention before the child acted.

"Yes, my parents gave me up," she said at last. "But part of my family still lives with me. I grew up with my aunt, and her sister spends time in our village. My great-grandfather also lived there until his death." She paused for a moment. "I also have a great-grandmother—her name is Leito. Her son Vasen is the father of a man named Kal, and Kal is the father of my cousin and closest friend, Fiella. She was born a solitary, like me, but her parents remained to raise her." She spoke rapidly, hoping that if Rulek learned about her, he might reveal something about himself.

She waited, but the boy remained silent. "I've never seen my parents," she went on. "They've never called out to me."

"You came here alone," he said.

She nodded.

"To pass through your ordeal?"

"No. We no longer practice that custom."

Rulek lowered his eyes. "I went through my ordeal some time ago," he said in a soft voice. "Wyke, the girl I had chosen as my partner, did not live through it." He covered his face with one hand for a moment. "I thought my soul would leave me then."

"I'm sorry. It's hard to lose one you love." She longed to distract him from his pain; his mind, behind his wall, was throbbing. "My great-grandfather left this life only a few days ago. It was hard for me to see him die, but he had lived a long life and his death came peacefully. Losing someone as young as the girl you knew must be much worse."

She sensed a small ripple of sympathy; Rulek had opened his mind a little. The small gesture moved her; in spite of his own loss, he was trying to comfort her. She touched his mind gently as he withdrew behind his wall. "Why did you come here?" he asked.

"I needed time to think, to accept my loss. I couldn't in the village, where everything reminded me of my great-grandfather. I needed to be alone."

Rulek frowned. "Solitude shouldn't be sought."

"I didn't seek it at first. My aunt suggested that I come here, as she used to. I've never really been alone before." Her mouth twisted into a small smile. "It's good that I came, though, and found you." She blushed; she had spoken the words a bit too warmly. "The aunt who raised me," she continued, "is named Daiya. Thirty cycles ago, when she was about my age, she met a skydweller, the first to come here in thousands of cycles. His name is Reiho. It was through Daiya and Reiho that our village first came to know of the comet world above."

"The skydwellers should never have come here," he said forcefully.

"You mustn't say that. They've tried to help us. Without Reiho's help, Daiya might never have learned the truth about the Minds, and we would never have known that it was ancient Earthfolk who created Them and made our powers possible."

"My people say that God must have worked through us to create the Minds. They also say that communing with heavendwellers will only lead us astray, that even knowing of such creatures causes young ones to question everything. They say that we lived peacefully for many cycles without questions, learning how to draw closer to others, but that the heavendwellers will tempt us into overreaching ourselves and will bring about the conflicts that once nearly destroyed this world. Some even say that the heavendwellers will steal the Minds or infect Them with evil thoughts."