Seeker (30 page)

She never spoke the word. She just looked at Blessing, but all at once she smiled a sweet shy smile. So it was Blessing who spoke the word, hardly daring to make a sound.

"Your
mother?
"

Morning Star bowed her head. Blessing felt a wave of ecstasy flow through her. She advanced on Morning Star and folded her in her stout arms.

"You were my baby girl!"

Morning Star was careful not to go too fast too soon.

"Only a dream, my lady. Who is to say?"

"But the message!"

"These things are mysteries."

"Why, from the moment I set eyes on you, I knew you were linked to me, in some special way."

"I felt it, too. I've been so happy, ever since I entered your house. Even with—"

She held up the wrist on which the manacle was fixed.

For the first time, Blessing realized she faced a dilemma. She stared at Morning Star, stricken.

"I can't send you to be an offering! Not my own daughter!"

"Who better to die for you, my lady?" said Morning Star softly. "You gave me life. It's yours to take away."

"Oh, this is terrible!" Blessing wrung her hands and almost wailed with dismay. "What can I do? My husband doesn't believe in dreams. He has his heart set on a willing tribute. And now—here you are—and oh! it's all going wrong!"

"Not wrong, my lady. Everything comes to pass as the Great Power wills."

"But what am I to do?"

"Don't be afraid. If it's the will of the Great Power that your husband shall see the truth, then that too will come to pass. We shall see what messages the night brings."

"Oh, I do hope so! There's so little time. The day after tomorrow, at sunset—oh! I can't bear to think of it!"

Seeker and the Wildman spent a second day picking tomatoes in the floating gardens. In the late afternoon, by ill luck, they found themselves working at a row of vines on the other side of which were the young men who had taunted them the previous day.

"Hey, boys! Watch your step! Here comes the Girlman!"

"Hey there, Girlman! Those tomatoes look kind of angry!"

"You take care, Girlman! A tomato can be real mean."

They snickered softly as they picked.

"Hey," said one of them, "did you hear how Girlman picked a fight with a hoodie?"

"You stick with the tomatoes, Girlman. Hoodies are out of your league."

Seeker could see how near his friend was to snapping under the strain. He decided to draw the taunts on to himself.

"Are you talking about the Nomana?" he said.

"What's it to you, babyface?"

"Only that I hate the Nomana."

"You hate the Nomana! Oh, my! The Nomana must be pissing their pants!"

"The Nomana are rotten to the core," said Seeker. "The sooner they're smashed the better."

Even the Wildman was surprised by this, until he recalled Seeker's plan to find the weapon. The workers on the other side of the vine hardly knew whether to laugh or be afraid.

"Smashed! Listen to the boy! So what did the Nomana do to you?"

"They ruined my brother's life. They disgraced him, for no reason. I hate them all."

Seeker's outburst was so unusual in the controlled atmosphere of the working parties that word of it spread up and down the lines and came to the attention of the supervisors. One of them strolled up the floating walkways to question Seeker more.

"Are you the one who hates the hoodies?"

"Yes," said Seeker.

"Have you ever actually met a hoodie?"

"I was born on Anacrea. My brother was a Noma, until they cast him out."

"Is that so! And what might your name be?"

"Seeker after Truth."

"Now there's a name and a half. And do you seek after truth?"

"No. I seek revenge."

"Is that so!"

The supervisor looked him up and down and nodded and strolled away.

When the working day ended, Seeker saw this same supervisor was standing on the shore by the pay desk with a priest, and that they were watching him.

"Wildman," he whispered. "I think they've taken the bait. If necessary, will you go to Morning Star alone?"

"Of course."

Seeker was right. No sooner had he stepped off the bobbing walkway onto the lakeshore than the supervisor came gliding forward and took him by the arm.

"Seeker after Truth," he said. "I have a holy man here who would like to meet you."

The priest was bland-faced and middle-aged. He studied Seeker with a suspicious gaze.

"You come from Anacrea?"

"Yes."

"But you have a grudge against the Nomana?"

"I'd kill them all, if you call that a grudge."

"You're young to talk of killing."

"Do only old men kill?"

The priest nodded at that.

"Perhaps you would like to meet some others who think as you do."

The Wildman watched as Seeker was led away by the stranger. Seeker left without a word to him, or even a look, and was soon lost to sight. Everyone else was on the move, as the time of the offering approached. Alone now and full of unease, the Wildman crossed the city to the house where Morning Star was imprisoned.

As before, he waited for the household to empty Then he found the grating through which he could talk to Morning Star.

"Heya!" he called. "You still there?"

"Of course I'm still here," came the familiar irritated voice. "Where's Seeker?"

"He's gone off with some people who hate the hoodies."

"Has he!"

There was a silence from the grating. The Wildman was about to say again, You still there? but he stopped himself. Instead he said,

"You got a plan?"

"Did Seeker say where he'd meet you again?"

"No. He just went."

"So there's only you."

"Yes."

"I suppose I'll just have to make the best of it."

"You want your neck slit, girly?"

"Be quiet and listen."

The Wildman became quiet and listened. After all, he told himself, it was because of him that she was locked in the cellar.

"The city is full of wild cats. Have you seen them?"

"Yes."

"Do you think you could catch one of them?"

"Catch a cat? Sure I can."

"Then catch a cat tonight. A yellow cat."

"A yellow cat."

"Take one of your own hairs. A long blond hair."

"My own hair?"

"Just one. Tie it round the cat's right front leg."

"Why?"

"Just do it. Make sure it's tight. I don't want the cat pulling it off."

"The cat'll hate it."

"Feed the cat. Feed it all it can eat. That way it'll sleep."

"Feed the cat."

"And tie it to the gates of the house."

"Like last night."

"Except it's not a rolled-up leaf any more. It's a cat."

"Yes, I know."

"Just checking."

"Do I come back same time tomorrow?"

"You or Seeker. Seeker would be better. But you'll do."

"You want to get your—"

"Yes, I know. Let's hope I live long enough for you to slit my throat."

The priest led Seeker to a section of the city that was mostly lodging houses. Because the people who lived here were not citizens of Radiance and did not attend the evening offering, there was more life here than elsewhere in the city. The bars were busy, and the lamps were lit in the windows. Seeker followed the priest to one of these bars, and here he was told to sit down and wait. The priest went back out into the street.

The bar was plain and bare, a drinking place for poor men, but it was clean and well-kept. The barman nodded at Seeker, and Seeker nodded back, and shortly he was brought the standard order of a slab of white bread and a small flagon of red wine. He was not asked to pay. He ate and drank in silence.

In a little while the priest reappeared, followed by a second man, a small balding man with staring eyes.

"Here he is," said the priest. "Born on Anacrea."

"Born on Anacrea." The small man studied Seeker with an almost hungry intensity. "Young."

"Too young?"

"No, no. It could work well for us. If he's got what we need."

"Ask him."

The small man had never taken his eyes off Seeker.

"So, young man," he said. "I am told you're called Seeker after Truth. But truth is not what you most desire."

Seeker did not blink or look away.

"All I want," he said, "is for the Nomana to die."

"The Nomana are powerful. What can you do against them?"

"I've heard there's a weapon that can destroy even the Nomana."

"Have you, now?"

"If I could find this weapon, I would use it."

"If such a weapon exists, it must be something very remarkable indeed. You're no more than a boy. Why should you be given the honor of using it?"

"The holy island is well guarded, but no one would suspect me. I've been to the heart of the Nom many times. I've looked through the silver screen at the Garden itself. I can go again."

The balding man nodded slowly as if to say he was satisfied so far.

"The question is this." He spoke to the priest. "Is the boy brave enough?"

"Try me," said Seeker fiercely.

"Yes. Maybe we should do just that." He rubbed his chin with one hand while he pondered. Then he turned to the priest. "I have to be sure."

"Perhaps," said the priest, "we should seek guidance from the Great Power above."

"What did you have in mind?"

The priest took the little man aside and spoke to him in a low whisper. The little man nodded as he listened. Then he turned to Seeker.

"You will be brought back here tomorrow, at the same time. Then, when the good people of the city are in their beds, we will conduct a test, to discover whether you are the one destined to fulfil this historic mission."

S
OREN
S
IMILIN WAS WRONG ABOUT THE FINE LADY. ALL
down the long hard road to Radiance, she kept pace with the men and never asked to stop until they stopped. When her shoes began to split and flap, she kicked them off and walked on barefoot.

For all of the first day, she did not speak. Blaze looked at her from time to time, and Similin could see that he was haunted by the sadness he saw in her face.

On the second day, after walking through the cool of the morning, they stopped at noon to eat. After they had eaten, they rested. They lay down in the deep shade of a tree, and listened to the drone of insects and the clop of passing bullock carts, and slipped into a short sleep.

When Blaze woke, he turned and saw that Similin was still asleep, but the lady had her eyes open. She was gazing up at the foliage above. There was a light wind stirring the branches, and as they moved, the pattern of leaves broke and reformed, letting through brief dazzles of sunlight. The effect was both mesmerizing and playful, as if the summer afternoon were engaged in its own shy dance of delight.

"I'm sorry you're sad," whispered Blaze. "But now is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said.

She turned her head on one side so that she could look at him.

"They've turned you into a child again, haven't they, Noma? I envy you."

"Please don't be sad."

"You'd be sad if you knew my story."

"I'd like to know your story"

"Would you? It doesn't have a happy ending."

"Has it ended?"

He asked this so innocently, as if it might indeed have ended, that she smiled.

"No. I don't think my story has ended yet."

"You could tell it as far as you've got."

"Why would you want to hear my story?"

"I like stories. Stories help fit things together."

"Don't things fit together for you, Noma?"

"No." He shook his head, stating a simple fact. "No."

"Well, then. I'll tell you my story."

She turned her head back again, to look up at the dancing light in the leaves above. For a while she said nothing, as she let her mind reach back over her life. Then she started to speak, in a soft and hesitant voice, as if rediscovering herself as she spoke.

"There was once a girl who lived in a village by the sea."

Blaze said nothing. He listened like a child, with his thumb in his mouth.

"She was ordinary in every way, and had no reason to think she was different from everyone else. But she was. From her earliest childhood, she had dark days. They came without warning and lasted for a day, or two days, sometimes even more. When the dark days came, she knew that she was a person of no worth at all. She knew that she was a burden to those who loved her, even a curse. She could do nothing to escape the darkness, except perhaps to throw herself in the sea, which she would think about longingly, day after day, wanting only to shut her eyes and stop her ears and silence her thoughts. Her parents told her about the Loving Mother, the Quiet Watcher who is always near, but she knew that on the dark days, the Quiet Watcher had abandoned her. Then the darkness would pass, like a cloud shadow floating away over the hills, and she would be calm again.

"So she grew up and was married and had a baby. Her life was very simple, and she was happy until the dark days returned. And they always did return, for longer and longer periods. When they were at their darkest, she was afraid to leave the house, afraid she would run back to the sea, so she shut herself in her room, she imprisoned herself, to save herself. Not because she was worth saving, but for the sake of her baby.

"It was on a day when she was alone in her room like this, at the darkest time of the dark days, that she had a strange experience. The room filled with light. The light was so bright she had to shut her eyes and cover her face with her hands. A voice spoke to her, saying, 'Come to me.' She knew at once that it was the voice of the Quiet Watcher. And she knew that this was the only way she would ever escape the darkness.

"So she decided to go to the holy island, where the Quiet Watcher lives, and dedicate her life to the service of the one who is also the Clear Light. She believed if she did this, the darkness would let her go. She knew it was a terrible thing to leave her child and her husband, but she believed she was called by the All and Only; and she knew that if she did not go, the darkness would overwhelm her.