Until the Celebration (7 page)

It was not that the Erdlings were unappreciative of the opportunity to use and enjoy the luxurious surroundings that had for so long been reserved for the exclusive use of the Ol-zhaan. It was simply a matter of convenience, the convenience of some of the Erdling Councilors whose age and physical condition made a hardship of the long climb to the heights. For some, even to reach the lowest grund-level by means of the newly constructed hanging stairways was far from easy. And to go still higher along narrow branchways, ramps, and ladders would be not only very difficult, but dangerous as well, since several of the more elderly had not yet mastered the use of the shuba, and perhaps never would.

So the emergency meeting of the Joined Council was convened in the great assembly hall. And it was there, just outside the great archway of the entrance, that Neric and Genaa came upon Raamo. Simply dressed in an unadorned shuba of pale brown, such as was often worn by apprentices and students, Raamo looked strangely out of place among the other Councilors, a child among adults, a shy, uncertain boy among men and women long accustomed to honor and responsibility. Even Genaa, who was approximately the same age, seemed older. To Neric, it seemed a matter of gifts—and time. Genaa’s brilliance of mind and body was a temporal gift, and having received it so early had aged her, making her wise and beautiful beyond her years. But the gifts that had been given to Raamo were ageless—beyond the realm of days and years.

When Raamo saw Neric and Genaa, his pale face lightened briefly with a smile and he hurried to meet them. But his eyes were troubled.

“What is it?” Raamo asked. “The messenger told me only that there was to be an emergency meeting. What is it about? Wassou?”

But at that moment the huge double doors of the hall were opened, and the Councilors surged past them.

“Wassou was injured by the Nekom,” Neric said briefly. “He is still alive. Come, we will hear it all soon enough.”

Along with the other members of the Council, Raamo, Neric, and Genaa made their way down the long central aisle between the rows of tendril benches to the steps that led up to the high platform where the meeting table-board was set. The Council consisted of forty-seven members—twenty Erdlings and twenty Kindar, plus the seven who had faced D’ol Regle and brought about the Rejoyning. In spite of the short notice, nearly all were present to face what could be the greatest threat to the future of Green-sky since that first day when the power of uniforce had taken the tool-of-violence from the hands of D’ol Regle.

The meeting was long and painful. What had happened was without precedent. There were not even any publicly recognized words to discuss what had been done, since the archaic terms were known only to those who had been Ol-zhaan. And the description of the deed was agonizingly embarrassing to all the delegates, and to the Kindar in particular.

It seemed impossible to believe that such a thing had actually happened, and even more impossible to realize that it was necessary for them to discuss such an unnatural and inhuman event in a public place. And when the exact nature of the deed had been made clear to all, there followed an equally unthinkable duty. It was the responsibility of the Council to decide the fate of Axon Befal and the others who had attempted to take the life of the old man, Wassou.

Except for the banishment of the Verban, of which the Kindar had been innocent and ignorant, all offenders in Green-sky had always been ordered to appear at one of the Chambers of Justice. There they were examined and asked to justify their behavior in terms of its relationship to the gifts of the Spirit—to Peace and Joy and Love. If their explanation was considered to be lacking, or if the offense was repeated, they were assigned to a remedial seminar. At the nearest Garden they attended classes in Peace—or in whatever Spirit-skill seemed appropriate, in that its lack seemed to be responsible for their offense. There, among the youngest children, they relearned the rituals and ceremonies, the skills and practices, that would make their misdeeds unnecessary. In almost all cases the method was highly effective. But in this case such a remedy was obviously impossible.

Slightly more severe measures were often used in Erda, but even these were not appropriate for this. It seemed unlikely that public reprimand, heavier workload, organized ostracism or even reduced food ration would deter the Nekom from pursuing their terrible goal.

At last, after hours of debate, a verdict was reached. Axon Befal and those of his followers who had participated in the attack would be found and examined, and if they were guilty, they would be taken to the new surface city that was just being constructed below the smallest and most distant Kindar city, Farvald. Guards would be posted, and the offenders would live and work under constant surveillance for a period of at least two years. Their movements would not be hindered within the boundaries of the city, but if they left Farbelo at any time, for any reason, the Council would immediately be notified.

On leaving the assembly hall, Raamo and Neric and Genaa walked for a short way together. Raamo was silent, deep in thought, and Genaa watched him with concern. His face was as open and unblocked as that of a three-year-old, and it was not necessary to be able to pense to know that he was in great mind-pain.

“Are you coming with us to the youth hall, then?” she asked when they turned off the main branchpath.

Raamo looked up suddenly, roused from his thought-taking. “No,” he said, looking around in bewilderment. “I meant to go on towards the rampway. I was going back to the Vine Palace. I must see if Pomma and Teera are ... if they are all right.”

“All right?” Neric asked. “Why wouldn’t they be all right?”

“They were to be taken today to the harvester’s guild hall in Orchardgrund. My father arranged it. Some of the members of his guild have formed a chapter of Ny-zhaan, and they asked if the children could be present at their welcoming of the members.”

“A chapter of Ny-zhaan in the harvesters’ guild?” Genaa asked. “The movement must, indeed, be spreading. I thought it was popular mainly among professional thought-takers—teachers from the academies, and the few former Ol-zhaan who started it.”

“I think that is true,” Raamo said, “for the most part. But my father was asked to attend some of their meetings, and he has become interested. I think that he has influenced some of his fellow harvesters. But I think it is true that there are not many from the craft guilds who are members of the Ny-zhaan.”

“I thought the movement might be dying out,” Neric said. “At least I’ve heard very little about them in recent weeks.”

“They are few in number, I think,” Raamo said, “but very dedicated.”

“Dedicated? To what? I don’t think I’ve ever heard exactly what their beliefs and rituals are.”

“They don’t seem to have many rituals,” Raamo said. “At least, I’ve not heard much said concerning them. But they have many meetings.”

“What do they do at their meetings if they have no rituals?” Genaa asked.

“They talk,” Raamo said. “They meet together and talk. Some of them are Erdling.”

“And of what do they talk?”

“They talk of the Spirit, I think, and of the teachings of Nesh-om. And of the children. They have great Love for the children.”

“But if they have such great Love for Pomma and Teera, why are you fearful? Surely no harm could come to the children at a meeting of the Ny-zhaan.”

“I’m not sure where the harm might come from,” Raamo said. “But I think it would be best if the children were not taken out on the public branchways.”

As he spoke, Raamo had been edging back towards the rampway, his manner hurried and distracted, and now he turned suddenly, and lifted his face upward and towards the east—towards the Temple Grove. “I must go now,” he said, and without even the palm-touch of the shortened form of the ceremony of parting, he hurried away.

Neric shook his head. “I’m worried about him, Genaa. He seems to be greatly changed. I can no longer pense what he is thinking.”

Genaa looked at him sharply. “We have all changed,” she said. “But I, too, have worried about Raamo. All this—this tension and mind-pain is harder for him than for most of us. He is too much wounded by the pain of others.”

As Raamo started up the Stargrund rampway, the twilight deepened into darkness and the first drops of the night rain began to fall. The rampway was deserted, and Raamo’s pace quickened. Surely the children would have been taken home to the Vine Palace by now. He had hoped to be there when they returned. He had hoped to be there, in case ...

For a moment the shadows that hovered at the edge of every thought concerning Pomma and Teera seemed to be parting, and Raamo stopped. Standing very still just where the rampway met the large central platform of the Grove, he lifted his face to the warm patter of the first rain and sent his thoughts out to search the shadows—to try to see what threat was hidden there. But as always when he faced it, the shadow faded back into the darkness, leaving only a pale flicker of warning. Raamo hurried on.

When he reached the Vine Palace, the tendril gate had already been set in place, and Raamo had to blow on the entry flute and then wait for someone to arrive to release the gates. He had not waited long before Eudic appeared, an old man who had been in the service of D’ol Falla for many years.

“Have the children returned from Orchardgrund?” Raamo asked the serving man.

“Yes, D’ol Raamo,” the old man replied. “They returned some time ago. I think they are now in the hall of food-taking.”

“Thank you, Eudic,” Raamo said. “And Eudic—you should remember to call me Raamo—only Raamo. The Council has decreed that the title D’ol is to be given only by the Council as a special honor. No one is entitled to its use now, except D’ol Falla.”

The old man nodded, making a gesture of contrition. “I know. I know, D—Raamo,” he said. “But I am an old man, and habits as old as mine are hard to break.”

Raamo held out his hands for the old man’s palm-touch, and then hurried on. The serving man stood looking after him until he disappeared in the dimness of the long hallway.

“Too bad, too bad,” the serving man muttered, his misty hair quivering around his shaking head. “It is clear that he is true Ol-zhaan—a Spirit-guided, such as were known in the early days—meant to seek the Spirit in the Peace of the Temple.”

In the hall of food-taking Raamo found Pomma and Teera seated at the table-board, just as the serving man had said. With them were their parents, Herd and Kanna Eld, and Valdo and Hearba D’ok. At the head of the table the high-backed tendril chair of D’ol Falla was empty.

“Where is D’ol Falla?” Raamo asked.

“She was very tired,” Hearba said. “She has already eaten and has retired to her nid-chamber. Will you share our food-taking tonight? We did not know if you planned to eat with us or at the youth hall.”

“I will share your food-taking,” Raamo said.

As soon as he was seated at the table-board, Raamo gave his attention to the children. They had been chattering gaily as he entered the room, but now they were silent. His sister’s blue-green eyes regarded him gravely; but when he tried to meet her gaze, she looked down quickly. Her lashes curtained her eyes and, pensing, he could feel that there were other curtains between them as well. Teera, too, would not meet his eyes, but like most Erdlings, she had not learned completely to mind-block her emotions. However, Raamo could pense no more than a vague and furtive fearfulness.

“Raamo.” His father, Valdo, was speaking. “I wish you could have gone with us to the meeting of the Ny-zhaan. It went very well. There was no trouble of any kind.” Valdo paused, waiting for Raamo’s response. It was clear that he wanted Raamo to acknowledge that he had been right, that there had been no harm in his arranging to take the children to the meeting. “There was great happiness and excitement,” he went on. “Many spoke to me of how their dedication was strengthened and heartened by the presence of the children.”

Raamo smiled. He knew his father well. Valdo had been a harvester for many years, and the high regard of the fellow guild members was of great importance to him.

Hearba had been watching Raamo closely, and now she asked, “The meeting of the Council. What matters were brought before it today?”

Raamo shook his head. “I will speak of it later,” he said. Turning to his sister he asked, “Pomma, did you enjoy the meeting of the Ny-zhaan?”

“Yes, Raamo,” Pomma answered quickly, but her eyes were still lowered, and she spoke shyly as if to a stranger. “The people were very happy that we were there. They called out my name—and Teera’s—and they threw flower petals in front of us.”

Suddenly Pomma was herself again, her eyes dancing and her lips twitching into a giggle. “Look,” she said, “Teera still has petals in her hair.”

Raamo sighed and turned his attention to mushrooms and pan in egg sauce, which had been placed before him. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps the children were not in such great danger after all.

R
AAMO?” WASSOU SAID INCREDULOUSLY.
“She is bringing Raamo? I don’t think ... Do you think I am recovered enough to ...

The healer, a large cheerful woman with a gift for brisk and sensible compassion, interrupted. “Of course,” she said. “You are nearly well. In a few days you will be allowed to return to your own nid-place.” Approaching the chair in which Wassou was sitting, she stared down at his upturned face with frank appraisal. “You are quite all right. Quite all right,” she said.

When she had gone, Wassou sat for a minute longer as if immobilized by surprise. It was true, he knew—the time was coming soon when he would have to face the outside world again. All of it, without exceptions. But it seemed, somehow, too soon.

It was not yet a full month since he had been carried, more dead than alive, into this chamber at the hall of healing. He could vaguely remember his arrival, but then nothing for many days, during which time he had been kept under constant hypnosis as a shield against the pain of his injuries. It had not been until a week ago that he had been allowed his first visitor, and it had been, of course, D’ol Falla. Since then she had returned almost daily and had sat beside him for many hours, in quiet companionship, or they spoke together of the far distant past. They had spoken of the days of their youth when, as young Ol-zhaan, they had for many years shared a close communion of deep intensity. But they had said little concerning the present and almost nothing of his wounding or of his current condition.