Until the Celebration (17 page)

“Wissen-wald?” Raamo asked.

“The new community founded by D’ol Regle. I stayed in Wissen-wald many days, helping to build nid-places and reservoirs. But then, several months ago, it was decided that I should return to Orbora to serve as a recruiter. I was told to go back to my old nid-place in the guild home, and to my place of service at the guild of builders. I was to say that I had been lost in the forest.”

“It would seem odd that such a story would be believed. Why didn’t your family report you missing?”

“I have no family, Honored One. I was bonded once, when I was young, but we were not blessed with children and we decided to break our bond and return to hall living. So there was no one to grieve at my absence. And there was so much that was strange in Orbora—so many other things to trouble about—no one seemed to have the time to question my story. So I lived again in Orbora and worked for my old guild, but while I worked I was always to talk to people—about the Erdlings and about the old days and of D’ol Regle. And when I found others who longed for a return to the safety of the days before the Rejoyning, I took them to a secret meeting place in the forest to talk to D’ol Salaat, or one of the other Ol-zhaan; and if they were found worthy, they were taken to Wissen-wald.”

“But the tool-of-violence?” Raamo asked. “You said you wished to speak to me about the tool-of-violence.”

“Yes, yes, D’ol Raamo. I am coming to that.”

“And Quon, you should not call me D’ol.”

“I know, I know, D’ol ... I mean Raamo. But it is hard for me to remember.”

“I understand,” Raamo said smiling. “And now, about the tool-of-violence?”

“Yes, the tool-of-violence. What I wished to say was that there are others in Orbora besides myself, perhaps many others, who are secret members of the community and who are here on many missions. There is one whom I have met—who has reported to D’ol Salaat with me— who serves in the Vine Palace and whose mission it is to find the tool-of-violence and bring it to D’ol Salaat.”

Raamo stared at Quon in horror. He knew all the serving people of the palace well, and there were none whom—but then, suddenly, he knew. There was one who mind-blocked very carefully in his presence. He had, at times, wondered about it. “Maala?” he asked. “Maala D’ach?”

“Yes, yes, Maala.”

“Has the tool-of-violence been taken to Wissen-wald?”

“To Wissen-wald? I don’t think so. She has not found it yet. At least she hadn’t found it a week ago when we last spoke to D’ol Salaat in the meeting place. D’ol Salaat was very unjoyful because it had not yet been found.”

“But it is gone now,” Raamo said. “Someone found it and took it away from where it had been kept, since the day of Rejoyning.”

The old man closed his eyes and let his head fall forward upon his chest. When he raised it again, his pale eyes seemed to have faded even more—as bleached and lifeless as the eyes of one far gone in wasting.

“Then I am too late,” he said. “He will kill them this time, for certain.”

“Them? Who, Quon?”

“The children. The holy children.”

“Do you think that Regle has the children, then? Was it his people who took them from the palace?”

“Yes, I am certain of it. He has taken them as he did before, that he might use them to force his will upon the people of Orbora.”

“Have you heard the newsingers, today?” Raamo asked. “Haven’t you heard of the message given today to the Startrunk newsinger?”

“No, I have heard no messages today. I have spent the day here in this hiding place waiting for you to cross the rampway.”

Raamo nodded slowly. After a while he asked, “Quon, why is it that you no longer serve Regle? You went with him into the forest and you have served him secretly in Orbora. Why is it you no longer serve him?”

“It is because of the children,” Quon said eagerly. “When I went into the forest with D’ol Regle, I had not heard about the children and of how they took away the evil power of the ancient tool of death by the holy power of uniforce. While I served in Wissen-wald, we were told a story of what had happened on the day of the Rejoyning—but it was not a true story. We were told that the children stole the tool-of-violence, but not how they took it. We were not told about D’ol Regle’s threat against the lives of the children. Instead—they told us many things that were not true.

“But then, when I was sent back to Orbora, I began to hear other accounts of what had happened on the day of the Rejoyning. For a long time I was not sure what to believe. But after a time I began to see that many of the things I had been told to tell the new recruits were not true—things about the Erdlings and the Rejoyners. Still I was afraid and uncertain. I could not decide what to do.

“Then, three days ago, when I heard that the children had again been stolen, I knew suddenly what I must do. I knew then what it was that D’ol Regle planned to do, and I felt that I must stop him. I have long had great faith in you, D’ol—I mean—Raamo, since I first saw you when you were announced as a Chosen. I felt that I must speak to you. I knew that you were living at the Vine Palace, but I was afraid to go there because of Maala, so I began to follow you, hoping to catch you alone.

“But yesterday was the time for me to report again to D’ol Salaat in the secret meeting place, and I did not go. And since that time I have been afraid to show myself anywhere. I am afraid of everyone—because anyone might be secretly in the service of D’ol Regle. I do not dare go back to my guild hall. I am an outcast. And it is all for no purpose. I found you too late.”

“Perhaps it is not too late. I know that it will be useful to the Rejoyners to know of these things—of Regle’s community and of his secret followers in Orbora. But there is something that you should know. Earlier today a newsinger was given a message from Axon Befal, the leader of the Excelling group called the Nekom. Do you know of them?”

“Yes. I have heard many rumors about them.”

“The message was that they have taken the children. Axon is demanding that the Council swear allegiance to him in return for the safety of the children.”

A shock of surprise shook Quon. When he recovered himself enough to speak, he said, “It seems impossible. I was so certain—”

“Perhaps, now, you will decide to go on serving Regle, since it was belief that he had taken the children that made you turn against him.”

Quon did not answer immediately, but when he did he said, “No, I was almost decided before I heard of the abduction of the children. And then, that night, I followed you and the Kindar woman to the farheights and waited for you in the entryway. I was able to hear much of what was said by those who call themselves Ny-zhaan. And what I heard made me see—made me understand. ... No, I would no longer be able to go on serving D’ol Regle, whether or not he has stolen the children.”

Quon’s story was finished, and the telling left him drained and shrunken, as if he had been living on the strength of his resolve to find Raamo and speak to him, and now that the speaking was over, he was left without plan or purpose.

“Where will you go now?” Raamo asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I think I know a place where you would be safe and well cared for. Perhaps you could wait here until darkness and then go to the nid-place in the farheights—the one where you waited for me in the entryway. The people there are Ny-zhaan. I think you would be safe there.”

A glimmer of hope returned to the pale eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “You are right. I should have thought of it before. The woman said that all are welcome.”

“I don’t think you will have to worry there about secret followers of Regle. The Ny-zhaan seem to have few secrets.”

When Raamo left Quon’s hiding place, he hurried to the nearest glidepath and within a few minutes he was landing on the broad branchway that led past the assembly hall. When he entered the hall, he found that D’ol Falla had already finished telling the Council about the continued existence of the tool-of-violence, and the terrible fact that it had disappeared.

“There is nothing more that I can say,” D’ol Falla was saying as he approached the council table. “I know that I have failed you and the Rejoyning. That my motives were good does not excuse me. If I had trusted the Rejoyning enough, a better way might have been devised—a better way to solve the problem. But now it is too late, and there is nothing that I can do. Except, of course, I am immediately resigning from the Council. My poor judgment should bring no further harm to you and to the people of Green-sky.”

The Council was incomplete. A few Erdlings and several Kindar Councilors were not in their places. And without the accustomed leadership of the Chief Mediator, Hiro D’anhk, the meeting seemed directionless and uncertain. For the moment at least, the Councilors showed little awareness of the terrible implications of the disappearance of the ancient weapon. Most of them were more concerned with D’ol Falla’s grief and with her intention to resign from the Council.

For several minutes Raamo listened to one speaker after another try to comfort D’ol Falla, telling her that she was not to blame—that under the circumstances her decision to keep the existence of the deadly weapon a secret was understandable and justified. One of the speakers, a Kindar woman, turned to Raamo.

“You have not spoken, Raamo,” she said. “Do you not agree with us that D’ol Falla should not blame herself and must not leave the Council?”

“Yes,” Raamo said. “I do agree. But I must speak of something else. Something that concerns the tool-of-violence. I have just come from a meeting with one who has given me important information about the tool-of-violence, and about other things, also.”

So Raamo told Quon’s story to the Council, taking care to leave out no detail concerning Regle and his community of Wissen-wald and of his secret spies and the woman Maala D’ach, who had been given the task of stealing the weapon. When he had finished, D’ol Falla was the first to speak.

“Yes,” she said. “I see now that it must have been Maala who found the hiding place.”

Neric was on his feet. “Why are we sitting here wasting time,” he said. “Let us immediately go to the palace to bring this woman before the Council. Ruulba, will you go with me to summon the traitor, Maala D’ach, to appear before us?”

But D’ol Falla was shaking her head.

“It is useless,” she said. “For two days Maala has been absent from her duties at the palace. It seems she has already gone to this new city of Regle’s, this Wissen-wald, with the weapon. It would seem that we now have two who have gained the means to threaten us into submission. Axon Befal has the children, and Regle again has the tool-of-violence.”

J
UST AS THE NEWS
of the abduction of the children had spread over Green-sky with great swiftness, so too did the incredible facts concerning Axon Befal’s demands and the stolen tool-of-violence. But this time, instead of a silence, there was a great increase in conversation. People gathered everywhere—in guild halls and nid-places, at places of service and on the public branch-ways—and talked about the two secret cities hidden somewhere in the open forest; about the woman Maala D’ach, and her treachery; and about the terrible threat of the tool-of-violence, once more in the hands of Regle.

The tool-of-violence was, perhaps, the most discussed of all. A year earlier, the people of Green-sky had been intrigued and horrified to learn that such a device existed. In the intervening months a new mythology had grown up around the ancient weapon, based partly on fact, but largely on surmise—a mythology that covered its appearance, its history, the terrible deeds it had once performed, and the source and extent of its awful power. This new mythology had made of the ancient weapon a symbol of evil that their ancestors had escaped by flight, but which pursued them, only to be conquered by the power of uniforce and of the Rejoyning.

That it had been conquered, they had not doubted, since it was assumed that it had been destroyed after the Rejoyning. And now, to learn that it still existed and that it could not be destroyed, transformed the triumphant myth into one of almost fatalistic fear—a fear that the curse of violence was indeed unconquerable, and that the tool itself was the physical manifestation of a hidden evil that still lived and moved among them. They spoke of it during the day with superstitious awe, and during the night it became the nightmare monster of their dreams—a thing of living, knowing evil, forever willing the return of its ancient power over life and death.

In the great assembly hall, the Council, also, talked. The Councilors present at the meeting at which the new revelations had been made had decided to meet again in two days’ time, and every two days thereafter until a solution had been found. By the first such meeting Hiro D’anhk had recovered enough to resume his duties as Chief Mediator, and even the grief-stricken parents of Teera had returned to their places at the table.

The Council had sent a message to the Citizens’ Senate in each of the seven cities, as well as to the city-masters and clan-leaders of Erda and all the surface cities. The message asked that representatives be sent to inform the Councilors of how the people felt about the threats of the two renegade leaders.

The representatives had begun to come, but they brought few suggestions as to what should be done. There was, however, general agreement on what should not be done. Very few, it seemed, thought that the Council should ransom the children by swearing allegiance to Axon Befal, and even fewer advocated an attempt to rescue them by means of force. It seemed clear to both Kindar and Erdling that either solution would be a denial of the children—a denial perhaps more final than their deaths. To most, it seemed that no answer was possible, and all that could be done was wait and hope—hope that Axon Befal and Regle D’orte would not be capable of the evil they had threatened, or that the power once before manifested through the children would somehow keep them and all Green-sky safe from harm.

And so the waiting continued. In the Vine Palace, D’ol Falla also waited, through days that had become, for her, eternities of torment. She waited in constant expectation of the news that Regle had presented his demands to the Council—demands based on the power of the stolen weapon—or that a message had arrived from Axon Befal, a message, perhaps, that he was advancing on the city.