The Fleet Book 2: Counter Attack (31 page)

“We must send for the priests. We need their guidance.” He was purposeful now, and we of Durga will eternally venerate his memory for his insistence that priests would be needed. Without their inspiration for guidance, we might have chosen wrongly then, and would be forever beyond the favor of Durga in all her forms.

“You—Scribe.” Admih, addressed the Scribe directly once more, and there was a look of boundless determination in his face, for he was certain that now there was an opportunity for the people of Durga to show their devotion to the Goddess. “You are to go to the temples, all of them. You are to summon the priests to speak with us, for doubtless they will know more of these Visitors, this Commander Horder, than we do. We of the Highest Caste keep the knowledge of our people, but it is the priests who bring us nearer the Gods.”

The Scribe bowed double before he hastened away, first to his own temple, the largest erected to Ajna. Then to Zivi’s temple, where statues of demons flanked the walkway to the altars. Then to Zivi’s other self, Zakti. This temple was built on the same ancient foundations as the first of Zakti’s temples and was regarded as a temple of great power, second only to the monumental temple to Durga and all Her forms. In each place he summoned the priests of highest rank and greatest wisdom, and told them of what he had learned. At last twenty-four priests came to the Highest Caste; an hour before sunset.

“We have little time,” said Admih, indicating the shadows that fell through Kel, rendering many of the streets as dark as night. “The Visitors will return, and we do not yet know who they are or what they want.”

“It was spoken that the Gods would send avatars from Janja to us, to show us the way,” said the revered priest of Yaneza, the God of Learning, Whose Head was monstrous with all He knew. “There are many writings to confirm this.”

“Yaneza is powerful in knowledge,” said the priest of Engri, who wore vestments painted with exploits of his God. “Yaneza is more powerful in knowledge than all others. But He is not able to read the hearts of men as Engri can, for Engri has more of man about Him, than does Yaneza. For that reason, we must also appeal to Engri to guide us.”

“But these are not men; the Visitors are avatars of the Gods.” Admih was distressed by the way the priests bickered, though he had seen it often enough before.

“Even then, we are men,” said Engri’s priest stubbornly. “I know we are in need of His council if we are to deal with these strange-beings.”

“We must remember,” said the formidable priest of Zakti “that Durga is the Unapproachable, and we must regard the circumstances that bring these avatars to us as significant. We have been left alone for so long, it cannot be anything less than another great battle of the Gods that would bring them to us now.”

There were buzzes and mutters in response to this: Admih was annoyed at the priests for confusing them. “I am a man who must regard all this as suspect,” he declared at last. “As long as I am serving as head of the Highest Caste, I must keep my senses no matter what the provocation to lose them.”

The priest of Yeimei scowled at him. “You do not know what you are playing at, Admih, to say that. This is Kel, and those of us who serve Yeimei know that our God serves Durga in all Her forms, as all Gods must. As long as Yeimei judges us, He will do so at the behest of Durga.”

Admih folded his arms. “And what do you intend by that?”

“I intend only to remind you that each of us will account not only to all of us of Durga, but also to Yeimei and the All-Mother. These avatars, no matter what God they are, must be secondary to Durga Herself.” He lowered his eyes. “Durga created Zakti as Her son and Her lover. She created Yeimei to judge men. All Gods are Her children, and we are the children of the Gods.”

“And therefore what?” Admih asked, seeing his own puzzlement reflected in the faces of the others.

The priest shrugged. “If we do not serve Durga, we cannot serve the others.”

The Scribe of Ajna, who had been commanded to remain, had been watching by the larger of the two windows, and he now bowed to the Highest Caste and the priests. “It is nearly sundown and the Visitors are returning.”

“We must go and meet them.” Admih was more resigned than pleased.

“Listen to what he says,” suggested the priest of Yaneza. “Listen and learn.”

There was a brief clamor of other suggestions as the group prepared to leave the chamber for the gates of Kel where they would meet the Visitors who were from the Fleet.

As a last reminder, the priest of Vizna spoke up. “Recall that Vizna encompassed all of Janja in three strides. It may well be Vizna who comes to us, for He has always chosen strange guises for his avatars.”

“And if it isn’t Vizna, then who?” challenged one of the other priests before Admih motioned them to silence for their procession.

As with every sundown, gongs were sounded from the four corners of the city of Kel, and the people of all Castes came into the streets to say farewell to the light. It was a restless, apprehensive time, and many of those who called out the praises of the Gods watched the Highest Caste and the priests from the tails of their eyes.

Commander Horder was waiting impatiently at the southwest gate. He was accompanied now by three attendants: Spandril and two others.

After the Highest Caste had bowed and made ritual gestures of welcome, the priests showed their respect. That done, they waited for a sign from the Visitors.

“We’re grateful for your welcome,” said Commander Horder through the spirit-box. “We hope that you will listen to what we have to say and be willing to aid us in our work.”

“The work of the Gods is the duty of man,” said Admih for all of them.

“Ah . . . yes.” Commander Horder glanced at the others. “Do you really think the records were right? I find it hard to believe that they came from Earth, I don’t care how long ago.”

“We came from the Source, from Janja—” began the Scribe of Ajna, only to be interrupted by Spandril.

“There were over three hundred colony ships sent out of India at the time of the Great Famine,” he said. “It’s all in the records. There’s enough to link them with that expansion.”

“Still . . .” Commander Horder said, then sighed. “I guess we need all the help we can get.”

“Yes, sir,” said one of the other two.

Commander Horder addressed the Highest Caste once more. “We come to you for aid.”

All the Highest Caste bowed double.

“There’s . . . ” he looked at Spandril and his other men, “hell, how do you explain the Khalia to people like this?”

“Khalia?” asked the High Priest of Durga, who had been called Lallin when he had had a name.

Commander Horder turned back toward the Highest Caste of Kel. “Yes.” He wore a wide belt with three Attributes hanging from it, and though he had no twisted cords crossing his chest, there were mystic markings on his clothes that fascinated the priests. “They’re . . . they’re hostile. They’re destructive.”

All the Highest Caste listened attentively while the priests nodded their agreement.

“These . . . Khalia?” began the fortunate Gazili, “What do you want with them?”

Commander Horder straightened up. “You’ve got to understand that they started it. We’re not like they are.”

Again the priests nodded, one of them singing out his Endless Prayer.

“Does he have to do that, Commander?” asked one of the men with him.

“Leave it alone, Ecrilla,” Horder warned. “We need these people on our side. They’re too close to the Khalian area of influence.” He looked back at the seven-fingered men before him. “I can’t get used to some of these colonists. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, sir,” said Ecrilla at his most wooden.

Horder sighed and looked at the Highest Caste once more. “I wish we had better records about those early colonies. We don’t know winkles about them.”

“True,” agreed Spandril, who continued recklessly, “but if we stayed here a while, arranged for a study team, we could find out—”

“A
study team?”
Horder repeated. “Out here on the edge of Khalian territory? That would give them the excuse they need for another Target.” He stared at Admih. “You’re in charge, aren’t you?”

“I am the Speaker for the Highest Caste, yes,” said Admih with great dignity. “But each priest speaks for his God and not for the Highest Caste.” He pressed his fingers together and bowed lower than any member of the Highest Caste was ever expected to bow.

“The ones with the crossed ropes are Highest Caste, right?” Horder went on, feeling his way.

“It is the mark of the Caste, as the Gods have required of us since before the time we set out on the Celestial River.” He glanced at the Scribe of Ajna. “We have kept to the ways of the Gods.”

“There are records from the time of the Founding,” the Scribe confirmed.

“We’d like to see them, if you’ll permit,” said Commander Horder.

“Whatever the avatar desires we are here to fulfill.” Admih showed respect again. “You have but to tell us.”

The priest of Zivi bowed before speaking. “You of the Fleet; what are your Attributes, that we may know how best to serve you?”

Those with him were astonished by his audacity even as they admired his acumen, for we have long known that to address the Gods in any manner other than submissive is to court great harm. All waited to see what misfortune the avatar Horder would visit upon the priest of Zivi for such disrespect.

“The Fleet . . . well, it’s a little hard to explain it to people like you, who’ve been out of touch for so long, but we have established quite a . . . a group of connected planets out there. Many worlds are . . . within our influence.” He struggled to find the best way to describe the purpose and function of the Fleet. “We help to keep it all connected. We try to give protection and—”

“Ah,” said the priest of Vizna with a smile. “Protection. Given swiftly.”

Horder listened to the words of the spirit-box. “Ah . . . no, not that, it’s-—”

“Commander,” Spandril interrupted, “better not bite off more than they can chew, huh?”

“Oh . . . ” Horder considered the problem. “I suppose we can explain that later. The Khalia are more important, aren’t they?” He gave a signal to his men to encourage them. “They don’t need too many particulars yet, do they?”

“Probably not,” said Spandril.

“These Gods will not reveal everything to us,” ancient Derir warned Admih. “Gods conceal many things from men. We must be wary so that we will not be misled.”

“That is very true,” agreed Admih; several of the others showed agreement.

“Look,” said Horder, moving a few steps nearer, “we need your help. The Khalia are spreading out, they’re getting bolder by the day.”

Spandril coughed. “Tell them about Target. Keep it simple, but tell them.”

“Yes,” seconded Varnig, who had been watching the priests with increasing nervousness for the last several minutes. “Tell them.”

“God, I wish we had some place to sit down,” complained Horder to his men, and his remarks were duly conveyed to the Highest Caste and priests of Kel by the translating computer they had with them.

“We would be honored if you would accompany us to the Central Temple,” said Admih at once.

Horder hesitated and then said, “Sure. That would be fine. You lead the way and we’ll follow.” He motioned his men to fall in with him. “Keep your eyes open. We don’t really know what we’re getting into.”

“By the look of it, there isn’t anything we can’t handle,” said Ecrilla, apparently to make up for his earlier gaffe.

The gates of Kel were made of precious wood, from the scented arrani tree which grew only in the narrow moderate climate belt. Every time Kel was rebuilt more of the arrani wood had to be brought to the city, a journey that often took most of a year.

“Something stinks,” said Ecrilla in an undervoice.

“Stow it, Ecrilla,” said Horder.

“Yes, sir.”

“God, look at the place,” said Spandril as he looked down the narrow streets.

“He said God,” the Scribe of Ajna said quietly to Kazei as they moved along the central street of Kel, knowing that though the route was empty, they were being watched by those fortunate enough to live near this Sacred Way.

“Yes; I heard,” whispered Kazei.

“How’ve they managed to survive here?” asked Varnig of nothing in particular.

“They were pretty desperate during the Great Famine, according to the records,” said Spandril.

“They’d have to be,” said Ecrilla.

“The translator’s on,” Commander Horder reminded them. “Better think about what you’re saying.”

“Yes, sir,” said Spandril for the men.

Kel had been rebuilt only two generations before and the recent earthquakes had been mild, causing nothing more than minor damage. The paintings on the buildings were still bright; the Artisan Caste was strong in Kel, as in the other cities that must be rebuilt, and they were at pains to keep the city beautiful for the honor of the Gods. In the mining city of Djanrez the Artisan Caste had accomplished more, but nothing as wonderful as the paintings that adorned the Sacred Way of Kel.

“Did you look at those murals?” Spandril asked Horder as they walked along.

“I’m trying not to,” answered his Commander.

The Scribe of Ajna made note of this remark and murmured to the priest of Zivi, “He turns away from the exploits of Durga in all Her faces.”

“I have noted it,” said the priest.

“It is true that the Gods reveal themselves in many ways.” The Scribe hesitated at the door to the Central Temple, for he would not enter ahead of those of the Highest Caste, and the priests were above him in honor. In regard to the Visitors, there could be no doubt that they were entitled to enter first.

“What is wisest?” asked Admih of the High Priest of Durga, who was the leader of the Central Temple. “Since the God has not revealed His Godliness?”

“You and I will enter and invite Him and His attendants to enter,” said the High Priest. With these words he stepped through the portal and prostrated himself before the enormous altar that dominated the front of the temple.

Admih lowered his head before he crossed the threshold. “The face of the All-Mother is turned to the Celestial River which flows from Janja.”