This Star Shall Abide (8 page)

Pain crossed Talyra’s face, a look not merely of sorrow, but of deep hurt. Bewildered, Noren wondered why the truth should evoke such a look, for surely she knew that the fact she’d broken off with him was her best protection. And then he saw. She was blaming herself for his arrest! She thought he had not trusted her and had spoken in the tavern because he considered himself already doomed.

It was providential. Though he longed to say something reassuring, he knew he must do the opposite. His greatest fear had been that although her refusal to go through with the marriage would be corroborated by both his family and hers, she would be suspect because she’d failed to report him; now, by one small but cruel lie, he could ensure her safety.

“She told me she wouldn’t reveal her reason for calling off the wedding.” he went on, “but I could see that her piety was stronger than whatever love she had once felt for me. After that there was little point in caution, for though she was kept home by illness yesterday, she would surely have denounced me as soon as she was able to.”

Talyra turned away from him, her suffering obvious to all. “The girl’s piety is indeed well known,” one of the councilmen said. “It is plain that in betrothing herself to this scoundrel, she was the innocent victim of his deceit. I see no need to subject her to questioning, since he has already admitted his crime. I see no need to question anyone else at all. The case is clear-cut.”

The Chief of Council nodded. “That’s quite true. However, the boy himself must be examined further. Not only did he say blasphemous and heretical things, but he said them to Technicians! It is fortunate for him, and for all of us, that the High Law toward which he shows such disrespect does not in itself forbid the voicing of wicked ideas, and that its enforcement is left to us in any case; otherwise he would have been instantly struck down by those Technicians’ wrath. We would not have them think us tolerant of whatever other heresies he may be harboring.”

There was a murmur of agreement. “We of this village,” the man continued, “are respectable, reverent people, ever mindful of the High Law’s demands. We must concede that although we may forbid heresy in our own laws, it is not ours to chastise; yet should we fail to root out this boy’s errors and censure him severely for them, our name would be forever tarnished.”

Noren waited with newly-revived confidence. He had anticipated this and in fact had hoped for it; only under cross-examination would he be permitted to argue for his beliefs. He was fighting not for his freedom, which could not be won in any case, but to be heard; if this was to be his only chance, he was going to make the most of it.

All six of the councilmen glared at him reproachfully. “The Book of the Prophecy,” one of them began, “tells us that at the time of the Founding, the Scholars in their wisdom made the High Law, and that although its mysteries will not be made plain to us until the Mother Star appears, we are nevertheless bound to follow it. It is possible that you are ignorant of the reason for this?”

“I am not ignorant of the reason that’s given,” said Noren. “It’s claimed that without the High Law, people could not survive. But why should we assume that to be the real reason?”

“Because the book says so,” declared the man, as if to a very stupid child.

Noren laughed. “That doesn’t prove anything. When the Scholars wrote the book, they naturally put in a reason that sounded good.”

“Have you no respect for anything sacred?” cried another judge indignantly.

“I respect truth,” Noren said soberly. “I respect it too much to believe anything merely because some book or some person tells me I should. I want to really
know!
Maybe you’d rather accept stories that make you feel comfortable about the way things are, but I care more for truth than for comfort.”

For a moment the councilman seemed incapable of reply. “I shall pass over the enormity of your arrogance,” he told Noren after an ominous pause, “and simply point out to you that it is self-evident that we could not survive without the High Law. We live only by the grace of the Scholars. If they did not send us water, we would die of thirst. If they did not send Machines to quicken the land, no grain would sprout; and if they did not cause rain, the sprouts would die. For that matter, if the Scholars blessed no seed there would be no grain in the first place, nor would there be fowl if they had not favored our ancestors with the gift of fertile eggs. We would all starve.”

“I too will pass over much,” said Noren slowly, realizing that he could not possibly present the details of his thoughts about all these topics. “I will concede that we are dependent on the Scholars’ knowledge and on the use of Machines. But knowledge and Machines should be shared by all of us. It is not right for them to be controlled by Scholars.”

“Of course it is right! It is how things have been since the time of the Founding.”

“I do not believe in the Founding,” said Noren.

Once again the Chief of Council had to pound on the table to restore order, and this time it took quite a while to obtain it. No one in the village had ever heard of a heretic going so far as to deny the Prophecy’s account of the Founding.

“Just how do you think people got here,” inquired a councilman sarcastically, “if they did not come from the sky? Did they rise out of the ground, perhaps, like plants?”

With many interruptions, Noren attempted to explain his theory about the savages, noticing hopelessly that nobody was taking him seriously. “The savages are idiots,” protested someone in an exasperated tone.

“Maybe our original ancestors were idiots, and as they learned more, became more intelligent.”

That was the wrong thing to say. It was also a mistake to suggest that the ancestors of the Scholars and Technicians might have been idiots. Noren perceived that whatever secret support he might have gained had been wiped out; the spectators were now firmly united against him.

“You can achieve nothing by mocking us,” the Chief of Council admonished. “You are exhausting our patience! Everyone knows that the savages are idiots because they disobeyed the High Law and drank impure water.”

Noren hesitated only a moment; he had nothing to lose, and perhaps he could convince someone that in this respect at least, the High Law was foolish. “I doubt that,” he asserted. “I myself drank from a stream only yesterday, and as you see I’m still quite sane.”

There was an exclamation of horrified disbelief, and the judges scowled, as if they considered that last point to be somewhat questionable. “You are not an idiot
yet,”
one of them conceded, “but we know nothing of how long the process takes. Any morning you could wake up to find yourself transformed.”

“It’s indeed fortunate that the boy was apprehended before his marriage,” stated another coldly. “Some say that if a man should drink impure water and remain unchanged, his wife would give birth to idiot children.”

Noren looked out at the people in surprise; that story was not prevalent, and he had never heard it before. He caught Talyra’s eye, seeing that she was more shocked and wounded than ever.
Oh, Talyra,
he thought wretchedly,
surely you don’t believe such nonsense!
But he knew that she did, and that she would never marry him after this even if he were to recant and be miraculously released. He also, for the first time, understood the real reason for Kern’s murder; Kern had been all too popular with girls.

The councilmen huddled together; Noren realized that they were about to pronounce the verdict and that he would have little more chance to speak. Desperately he said, “Forget about the Founding! Forget all I’ve said if you wish, but is it not a fact that the Prophecy itself admits that it’s not good for the Scholars to keep things from us? Does it not say that someday they will no longer do so, that knowledge and Machines will come to everyone and that
‘the children of the Star will find their own wisdom and choose their own Law’?
Why would the Scholars have made such a promise if not because they knew that’s how the world should be? I don’t deny that they’re wise! They knew, and they also knew that the promise would keep us content to hope instead of seizing what’s rightfully ours.”

“The promise was not made by the Scholars,” reproved the Chief of Council. “It came from the Mother Star itself. The Prophecy will be fulfilled when the Star appears to us and not a day sooner; to believe that things should be otherwise is the worst sort of heresy.”

It was not the worst sort, and Noren, seeing that his case was lost, took the ultimate step of defiance. “I do not believe that there is a Mother Star,” he stated honestly.

He expected pandemonium, but instead, the room remained hushed; everybody was speechless. Finally the Chief of Council mustered the composure to proceed. “We’ll waste no more time here,” he said, “for it’s plain that you are past redemption. I grow cold at the thought of the punishments that will be yours when you enter the City! Are you not aware that the Technicians present in this room have a Machine wherewith they have recorded every word you have said? When you face the Scholars, Noren, you will be forced to listen to those words spoken by your own voice; and it will then be too late to plead for the forgiveness you will crave.”

Noren hadn’t known of the Recording Machine, but though startling, the idea of hearing his testimony repeated did not strike him as the dire ordeal it was evidently intended to be. “Do you think I don’t plan to be truthful before the Scholars?” he demanded. “If my words are recorded, then I’ll be saved the trouble of saying the same things over.

“You are insolent now. Your life may be spared once your insolence has been crushed, but I’ll wager you’ll be made sorry to be alive.” The Chief of Council rose. “We have reached a unanimous verdict. We pronounce you guilty as charged, and hereby remand you to the custody of the Scholars as is required of us under the High Law, though I have never seen anyone less deserving of their mercy.”

The marshals stepped again to Noren’s side. As he was led down the aisle, Talyra’s eyes met his, and she was in tears; he saw that despite her revulsion at his beliefs, she still loved him and would grieve for him. No one else showed any sympathy. Even Arnil lowered his head when Noren passed. From behind, one of the judges added, “May the spirit of the Mother Star protect you, Noren, for it’s sure that you’ll find no succor among men.”

Chapter Four

Noren was lodged in the jail that night; the Technicians, apparently, were not yet ready to take him away. After some hours he remembered that he had had no food since the previous evening. Perhaps that contributed to his faintness, though he felt no hunger.

Fear was rising in him again now that the trial was over. He’d suppressed it while there’d been something he had to do, but once alone, he could no longer keep it down. Too many of his nightmares in the past years had been centered on the unknown horrors that were about to confront him.
We can’t be forced to do or to believe anything against our will,
Kern had said, but Noren could not help worrying.

The Scholars, he realized, would not view him as his judges had. They, after all, knew even more of the truth than he did; they would not consider it stupid or sinful not to believe in things like the Founding and the Mother Star. On the contrary, they would recognize the sharpness of his mind. They would recognize it as a threat to their supremacy. One way or another, they would have to silence him; it was no wonder that they required all heretics to be placed in their hands. Nor was it any wonder that no villagers seemed to care about truth, he saw with bitterness. Anyone who’d shown signs of caring had been trapped, as he had, and summarily disposed of.

His attempt to convince people at the trial had been an utter failure, Noren knew. Nobody had been impressed by his arguments; they had simply been incensed. Thinking of it, impotent rage burgeoned within him: rage at the defeat, the blindness of others, the whole injustice of the way the world was arranged. He strained against the tight ropes with which he was again bound until his wrists were raw and his body clammy with sweat. Was there no power that could stand against a system that was so
wrong?

There was, he perceived suddenly. He would undoubtedly be hurt in the City; in the end he would be killed; but as long as he kept on caring, nothing could touch the freedom of his inner thoughts. With that one solace he fell at last into fitful sleep.

It was pitch dark in the cell when Noren awoke to the sound of voices and knew that the door matting was being unlashed. He sat up, thinking in despair that he had not the strength to endure another beating.

But the figure that appeared in the doorway was not one of his brothers, nor yet a drunken jailer. It was the young Technician.

He carried a lantern—not an ordinary one, but the mysterious kind that had neither tallow nor flame, being instead lit by Power—and as he approached, his face was illuminated; Noren saw that it was drawn. “Speak softly,” the Technician cautioned, without formal greeting. “I’ve sent the jailer outside, but he’s not far off, and I don’t wish to be overheard.”

“Are you going to take me to the City in the middle of the night?” Noren demanded, startled.

“No. You’ll be taken about two hours after sunrise, but I want to talk to you alone beforehand.” The man’s anguish was evident. “I—I’m sorry, Noren,” he continued through white lips. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but all the same I had to come.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault,” Noren said. “We both spoke rashly. You too could be in trouble if the Scholars found out all you said to me.”

“You don’t understand,” persisted the Technician. “It was a deliberate setup; I was instructed in what to say. At first I was only following orders, and then I—I found I meant what I was telling you, and I tried to stop the thing, but it was too late.”

On the verge of fury, Noren paused. Despite the betrayal, this man might have had a change of heart, and if so, he might someday be able to actively oppose the Scholars; a Technician was in a far better position to do so than a villager. “Just what do you believe?” he asked slowly.