And All Between (17 page)

At last a Kindar serving man appeared and let Raamo into the palace. The serving man was tall and stoop shouldered with blunt unlined features and shallow eyes, and he stared at Raamo strangely before he spoke.

“Greetings, D’ol Raamo,” he said at last. “If you will follow me, I will take you to the reception hall where you can wait while I announce your presence to the novice-master.”

When Raamo was seated on an ornate settee in the large reception hall, the serving man still lingered, staring. “My name is Pino,” he said. “Pino D’erl.”

“Greetings, Pino,” Raamo said. “Do I know you? Have we met before?”

“No,” the man said. He paused again and his smile was so strangely self-conscious that Raamo, for a brief moment, tore his mind away from its painful musings and centered it on pensing. The man was mind-blocking, of course, but carelessly, and Raamo was able to pense an odd, feverish pridefulness. “No,” the man repeated. “You do not know me yet, but I think you may know of me someday soon, and you might want to know that you have met me.”

Puzzled, and too distracted by thoughts of his mission to lend his mind fully to the meaning of the serving man’s strange demeanor, Raamo only nodded. “I thank you, Pino D’erl,” he said. “May I ask that you announce me to the novice-master? It is important that I speak with him immediately.”

The serving man left then, and returned shortly to say that D’ol Regle was awaiting D’ol Raamo in his chambers.

“If you will come with me,” Pino D’erl said, and he led the way through chambers and hallways and up several rampways to the higher levels of the palace.

When they reached the private suite of the novice-master, a flight of beautifully constructed chambers suspended and cantilevered amid an intricate webbing of Vine and tendril, they found D’ol Regle awaiting them. He was seated in a large hanging chair, among dozens of large down-filled pillows. Dismissing the serving man with a wave of his hand, he leaned back among his billowing pillows, and regarded Raamo intently from beneath half-lowered eyelids.

Trembling, Raamo stared at the familiar face of the man he had seen almost daily for many months, but who now seemed mysteriously and terribly altered. The differences were intangible, nameless—the face not so much changed in line or expression as in rigidity and tone—as if it had set and hardened and in doing so had been transformed into something grossly sinister. Forgetting for the moment his own fear and anguish, Raamo focused his mind on seeking out what lay behind the flushed face and majestic calm of the novice-master. D’ol Regle was, of course, mind-blocking carefully, but Raamo could sense strain and a fleeting whisper of strong emotions. Centering his entire being and the full power of his Spirit-force on pensing, Raamo reached out—and found himself caught up in a strange current of unknown and unfamiliar power.

It was unlike anything he had ever before experienced—a wave, a current of immense impelling force in which his own Spirit joined, and for a moment was carried—lifted—soared. There was a great and joyful exhilaration and a feeling of strength and union and freedom, all in one. And then suddenly it was gone, and he was left behind.

Raamo looked around, frantically searching for the source of the strange power. It had not come from D’ol Regle, of that he was certain. It had seemed to have come, from a place above and beyond—and yet, above this high-hung flight of the novice-master’s palace, there would be nothing but the bare branched far-heights of the grunds, and the spreading fronds of rooftrees.

“What message have you brought me? Where is D’ol Falla?” The novice-master was staring at Raamo strangely. “What’s the matter with you, D’ol Raamo? Are you ill, or have you, perhaps, gone mad?” D’ol Regle smiled sharply. “Or perhaps I should say, more completely mad than you and your accomplices have already shown yourselves to be.”

Raamo turned his mind to D’ol Regle and his question with great reluctance.

“D’ol Falla is ill and very tired,” he said. “She has sent me to tell you of our decision and to make a request.” He paused, looking around him, as his mind turned again to the strange force—the current of power.

“Yes, yes?” D’ol Regle was saying impatiently. “And what is this decision?”

“D’ol Falla and I will do as you ask until D’ol Neric and D’ol Genaa return from below the Root. We will speak to no one of the Geets-kel or the true nature of the Pash-shan. And when the others return, we will tell them of your demands and we will then appear before you and the members of the Geets-kel in the secret meeting chamber as you have requested. But we can not promise for the others, for D’ol Neric and D’ol Genaa or for Hiro D’anhk whom they have gone to bring back from Erda. We can only promise that no one will be told until after we meet with you and the Geets-kel.”

“And what is your request?”

“We don’t know how long it will be—we think it may be several days before Neric and Genaa return from Erda. We ask that during that time the children, Pomma and Teera, be treated gently—that they not be frightened or—”

“Your request is granted,” D’ol Regle interrupted. “The two children are being held in a secret place, but they are, and will be treated kindly—
unless
you forget your promise.”

Again the threat. Although Raamo had heard of it from D’ol Falla, although he knew beyond the faintest doubt that D’ol Falla had recounted it truly and accurately, he had not, himself, heard the words spoken. He had not heard D’ol Regle, novice-master and Ol-zhaan of great fame and honor, speak words of violence against children. And, thus, there had remained some feeling of unreality—an insulating distance, between Raamo and the full meaning of the threat.

But hearing it now, he was suddenly sickened. A bitter revulsion made him turn away, and extending his arms as if to ward off an evil dream, he stumbled towards the chamber door. Behind him, D’ol Regle blew sharply on a signal flute, and the serving man, Pino D’erl, appeared in the doorway. Raamo quickly followed him from the room.

Just outside the doorway, Raamo paused and breathed deeply of the fresh untainted air. And it was then that the feeling came again. More distant and fleeting this time, but just as infinitely engrossing, it caught him up for a brief moment and made him a part of its overwhelming power. And then it was gone, and Raamo was left to follow the still strangely smirking serving man to the palace dooryard.

The sun was gone, and as Raamo made his way back across the central platform and up the branchway that led to the Novice Hall, the first slow drops of the night rain had begun to fall. Lifting his face to the rain, Raamo wondered why he had never before thought that the soft warm drops of the first rain were very much like tears.

On the next morning and the one that followed, Raamo followed his regular schedule as a novice Ol-zhaan assigned to future service as a priest of the Vine. Just as before, he spent the morning hours in the palace of the high priest, and as before, much of that time was spent in discourse with D’ol Falla. But now D’ol Falla spoke of many things other than the ancient rituals of the Ceremonies of the Vine. All during the long hours of those mornings while they awaited the return of Neric and Genaa, Raamo and D’ol Falla spoke of many, many things, and Raamo learned much that he had not known before.

During her many years of study of the books and records of the Forgotten, D’ol Falla had discovered many facts about the past. She knew much about the long centuries before the Flight, about the Flight itself, and of the early years on the planet of Green-sky. She spoke to Raamo of all these things, but in particular she spoke of the man called Nesh-om and of his dreams for the Kindar and for the future of Green-sky.

“It was in his early youth, long before the Flight that D’ol Nesh-om began his studies,” she told Raamo. “Unlike many thinkers of his time, he did not believe that human beings were instinctively violent. He felt that if violence had at one time been instinctive, it had been unproductive for many centuries and would long since have disappeared if it were not for the human institutions that depended on, and fostered, violent and competitive behavior. D’ol Nesh-om’s early writings were full of observations concerning the philosophies and institutions of that time—institutions that to you, Raamo, or to any citizen of Green-sky, would seem incredibly foolish and evil.

“There were in those days, for instance, strange taboos that made many forms of behavior that arose from feelings of Love and close human communion inappropriate or even obscene, while expressions of aggression and anger were permitted and even, at times, admired. Children were carefully prevented from experiencing the Joys of many forms of close human contact, while being permitted, even encouraged, to attend events—games and diversions—that glorified violent and aggressive behavior.

“But then came the Flight, and a chance for D’ol Nesh-om to test his theories by planning and setting up new institutions that would encourage the development of the highest human potentials. Under his guidance all the institutions of Green-sky were planned and organized—from those concerned with the production and distribution of goods to the ones that structured domestic life and the nurturing of future generations. But the first purpose of every institution was to satisfy every natural human drive in such a way that the relationship of those satisfactions to the highest of all human needs was constantly reaffirmed and emphasized. Through ritual and ceremony, every need was related to the holy needs of the Spirit—the yearning for Love and Spirit-oneness. And as the years passed and the first generation of Kindar grew to maturity, D’ol Nesh-om’s hopes were justified, again and again. New forces of Spirit, some even that D’ol Nesh-om himself had not foreseen, were evolving and developing. Life in Green-sky was becoming daily, not only more serene and joyous, but also more full of portents and omens of great new changes yet to come. It was not, in fact, until that last decade of D’ol Nesh-om’s life, that the phenomenon of uniforce began to play a significant part in the lives of the people.”

“It would have been wonderful to have lived then—in those days,” Raamo mused, “when it was possible to take part in uniforce. I have often thought of it and wondered what it would have been like.”

“There are accounts in the old records,” D’ol Falla said. “But it was a great mystery, even then. No one learned to teach it—because it was a learning that did not depend on what lay within the power of the individual mind. But when it occurred it seemed infinite, of infinite potential and power.”

D’ol Falla’s face, which had been enlivened by the enthusiasm she felt for the work of D’ol Nesh-om, grew somber, and the delicate traceries of age once more formed patterns of weariness and anxiety. “But then came the great controversy, between D’ol Nesh-om and D’ol Wissen,” she said.

Raamo had heard before of the debate between the two great leaders, from D’ol Falla, and also, in a brief and inaccurate form in the lectures of D’ol Regle. But he had never been able to grasp just why the disagreement had assumed such great significance.

“But I don’t understand why D’ol Wissen felt it was so necessary to keep the knowledge of the past—of the destruction of the ancestral planet—from the Kindar,” he told D’ol Falla.

“D’ol Wissen believed that there was in human nature a deep instinctive need for violent and passionate behavior—a demonic force. He felt it would rise up from time to time, not only in individuals but in civilizations as well. He was sure that it was necessary to suppress not only every violent instinct, but also all knowledge of the possibility of violence. This, of course, meant that it was necessary to perpetuate the division of society into Kindar and Ol-zhaan—that there should always be a small group, an elite, armed with the knowledge of the past, who would, alone, be able to guard against the return of its evils.

“But D’ol Nesh-om did not agree. He felt that the force D’ol Wissen feared was not the result of a need for violence, but only a need for intensity—for intensity of feeling and emotion—for passionate involvement of both mind and Spirit. Having achieved this involvement in positive, affirming relationships, the Kindar would be free forever from the ancient demons of their violent past.

“But D’ol Nesh-om died, and D’ol Wissen triumphed,” D’ol Falla said. “And now, Raamo, we are facing again the dilemma faced in the old world by those who believed that violence was evil. We must decide as they were forced to do, whether to submit to evil, or to use evil methods to oppose it.”

When D’ol Falla returned to the question of an answer to violence, as she did many times, Raamo could only shake his head. He knew what she was seeking. It was true that he had, in the past, seen visions, visions that were, perhaps, foretellings. But he had never been certain that they were true foretellings. And what did seem very certain was that he was not able to summon a foretelling at will.

“I have tried and tried, D’ol Falla,” he told her. “Most often I hear nothing at all. But when I try the hardest—when I reach out until I am exhausted—” he paused, and then continued reluctantly. “When you first asked me to seek for an answer, the words of a song came to my mind—a nonsense verse sung in a game of children. And now, when I seek for a foretelling, the words of the song keep returning, filling my mind until they drown out all other thought or feeling.” Looking into D’ol Falla’s eyes, he let her read his frustration and regret. “A nonsense song of children,” he repeated ruefully.

T
RANSFIXED WITH FRIGHT, GENAA
and Neric stood in helpless silence while all around them the Erdlings moved forward. They came slowly, holding their tools of violence between them and their quarry, and when at last the circle had grown so small that they stood almost shoulder to shoulder, they came to a stop.

It was not until then that Neric, emerging from the blind paralysis of terror, began to realize that the threat expressed by the brandished weapons was not fully reflected in the faces that surrounded him. Looking into the fixed and staring eyes of the Erdlings, he began to be aware that he and Genaa were surrounded by fear and uncertainty, as well as aggression.