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Authors: Michael G. Coney

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BOOK: Gods of the Greataway
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Selena said to Zozula, “I told you we wouldn’t get anything out of him. Whatever happened in the past cost him his sanity. The poor fellow refuses to remember.”

“All we need is a telepath,” suggested Manuel. “Maybe the Fastcall creature could help.”

“I don’t think
it’s that simple,” said Selena. “If he really has hidden information he doesn’t want to remember, it could well be blocked from a telepath, too. They can only skim the surface of the mind … Her voice faded away. She was staring across the basin. Was that someone standing beside a distant Stone? She thought she saw a figure in black, and a raised hand, beckoning. An instant of dizziness took her and the view before her shifted slightly, as though she had slipped into an adjacent happentrack. But the Triad was still there, in discussion.

The Girl said, “When we saw the Stones from the ridge, they reminded me of something. It’s right on the tip of my memory.” She frowned, annoyed with herself. “It was the way they were set out. That pattern is familiar.”

“How can a pattern of five hundred rocks be familiar?” asked Zozula sceptically.

“It’s finished!” shouted Horst, so loudly that they jumped. He flung himself to the ground weeping, caressing the base of the rock as though it were a woman’s skin. After a moment he appeared to pull himself together and began to babble some kind of incantation, over and over again, with a queer desperation.

“What the hell is he gabbling on about?” said Zozula disgustedly.

The Girl said, “It sounds familiar.”

“Everything’s familiar to you, today.”

“No — listen. Where have I heard that before? Quite recently.”

Manuel said, “It’s like the mumbo jumbo the vulpids say before the shuttle takes off.”

“That’s right!” the Girl cried. “And —”

The Stone lit up.

The Triad backed away hastily, but Horst uttered a cry of delight and sprang to his feet. The Stone glowed with a pulsing bluish light that seemed to emanate from the areas around the circular depressions. Horst was silent now, his hand pressed into one of the dents, his eyes closed and an expression of rapt attention on his face. Then he nodded and babbled again and stared up into the sky while the rain poured down his face.

Then he began to run. Bounding across the rough ground, leaping boulders, arms flapping like wings, he reached the next nearest Stone. Even at a distance, he communicated a breathless excitement to the onlookers. Zozula was puzzled, but Manuel seemed to be feeling a quiet empathy.

“After all this time …” the young man murmured, gazing around at the immensity of Horst’s work.

“After all
this time, what?” asked Zozula, unimpressed by Horst, but still wary of the Stone glowing nearby. So far, it had shown no sign of actually exploding, but that was not to say he trusted it.

“To be finished. I can’t imagine what it must be like.” Manuel had spent several days perfecting his major mind-painting,
Belinda: the Storm-Girl,
but Horst’s work was beyond his powers of comprehension. The monoliths towered all around him and extended into the distance. They possessed a massive poetry of their own. There was something cosmic about them. Manuel could sense it.

“Yes,” said the unimaginative Zozula patiently, “but
what
has he finished? What’s it for? Is it art? If it is, then explain it to me, Manuel.”

“It has to do with the Greataway,” said Manuel. “And it’s very important to Horst — there’s a kind of urgency about it. And there’s love there, of course.”

“Important to Horst but nobody else,” Zozula snorted. “It’s as Selena was saying last night — something that Everling Joe told her? About art getting introspective after thirty years. Well, Horst’s been building this for twenty-six thousand years. In my uneducated opinion he’s been wasting his time.”

“Look at that,” said Manuel.

The second Stone glowed. Horst, yelling encouragement, ran on to the third.

The Girl said with sudden certainty, “Next, he’ll go to that one over there.” She pointed. “To the left, there.”

And sure enough, Horst did. And soon the Stone lit up.

“Now that one,” said the Girl, pointing again.

“How in hell do you know that?” asked Zozula.

The Girl smiled. “Not so long ago, we followed the same route. On a larger scale, of course.” She looked around. “Selena, I think we should —” She broke off, puzzled.

Selena wasn’t
there. Her memory potto sat on the ground, shivering unhappily.

“She’ll be back,” said the Girl, picking up the little creature. She set it on her shoulder and sat down on the wet ground to watch Horst making his zigzag way among the Stones.

“Won’t someone tell me what’s going on?” asked Zozula plaintively.

*

Selena stood before the old woman. There was a dreamlike unreality about the scene, as though the two of them were surrounded by a mist that isolated them from the Triad, Horst and the Stones. One Stone remained; the one beside the old woman. And now Selena saw that this one was different from the others. No lichen grew on it, no cracks disfigured its surface, and yet it bore an air of unimaginable age.

“Who are you?” asked Selena.

“I am Shenshi.”

“What are you doing on my planet? How did you get here?” It was impossible that this old woman should be standing here. “Are … are you human?” Selena asked finally, guessing part of the truth.

“Not so human as you, my dear. That’s why I’ve come to see you. I have scanned the Ifalong, and I believe that you could shortly be making a decision of Galactic significance. Through a series of related events, the results of your decision will affect the health and sanity of a great Being to whom I am responsible. It is my duty to insure your decision is the right one.”

“Oh,” said Selena. There seemed to be little else to say.

“Tell me what your plans are.”

“Well … It’s a long story.”

“You may assume that I know everything that has happened so far.”

“Oh. Well, we’re looking for a lost data crystal that may hold the clue to neoteny.”

“I can give you that crystal.”

“You
can?” And the mists cleared for a moment. Selena saw Horst running, running and shouting, bounding among the Stones, and every time he touched a Stone it glowed. Over half the Stones were glowing now and … Selena stared, then decided it was an optical illusion caused by the mist. But it seemed to her that the glowing Stones had left the ground and now hung in the air at varying heights. “Can I have the crystal, then?” asked Selena, holding out her hand. She wanted to get away from here. Strange things were happening.

“Very soon. I must warn you, though, that the crystal will be no use to you unless you make the correct decision.”

“Just tell me what decision you want me to make,” said Selena, more sharply than she intended. She was becoming very frightened.

“I can’t do that. It would presume an exact knowledge of the future that I do not possess. I can say in general terms that the decision ought to have been made already, and that the reason you have procrastinated is because the decision is a very difficult and — you may think — personal one. But the decision is too complex and the Ifalong too uncertain for me to tell you exactly what it is, and when it should be made.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Selena.

“If one thing in the Ifalong was certain,” said Shenshi, “it was that you would have said that. Always remember, the same decision will be before you, time and again, until you die. So decide soon, at the next significant branching of happentracks.”

There was a long silence. At last, quietly, Selena said, “How will I know when that is?”

“Everybody knows when happentracks are about to branch. You can feel it within you,” said Shenshi. “So don’t deny it when you feel it.”

Then she touched the Rock and was gone.

*

“Where have you been?” asked the Girl. “I’ve been looking after your potto for you.”

“I … I’m not sure,” said Selena. What was that, a residue of a memory in her mind? Something about an old woman and a decision? She shook her head and placed the potto on her shoulder. Most of the Stones were glowing now, and they really did seem to be hanging in the air. In point of fact, she decided, they were being reflected from the clouds. She stroked the potto, determined that from now on she would always keep it with her. She was getting old, and human memories could play tricks.

“Horst has
almost finished,” said Manuel.

“And what happens then?” asked Zozula. “Will that be all? The Stones he touched first have stopped glowing now.” Those Stones stood cold and dead, barren chunks of granite.

“I’m sure it will be worthwhile, after all this time,” said Manuel. “He seems to be working his way over to that far side. Let’s go, shall we?” Not wishing to miss anything, the young man hurried to the other side of the basin. A Stone stood there that was a little different from the rest.

The Girl followed on her shruglegger. “This will be the last one,” she said confidently.

When Selena arrived she regarded the Stone curiously, chasing an elusive memory. Her potto could not help her. The little animal shivered suddenly.

“This had better be good,” said Zozula.

Horst arrived, breathless. He flung himself at the last Stone, yelling. His hands sought the indentations while his gaze roved wildly over the clouds. He calmed himself, muttering incantations. His young face was contorted with emotions too strong for his small frame to contain, and he seemed to radiate a vital, desperate energy. “Come to me, my love!” he shouted finally.

And she came. There was a sound like a thunderclap and a young girl materialized beside the Stone.

She had dark hair and a pretty, immature face that bore no sign of the tortures she had undergone. She glanced briefly at the Triad and Selena, then her gaze rested on the Everling. She smiled.

“We did it, Horst.”

“We did.” But he stood apart from her, not meeting her eyes.

“Kiss
me, Horst.”

“I’m not worthy.”

“Oh, don’t be a damned fool, Horst,” said Zozula briskly, intruding on the scene with clumsy impatience. “Kiss the girl. Then tell me what all this is about, for God’s sake.”

But Horst stood where he was, until Loanna stepped forward and, taking his face in her hands, kissed him firmly on the lips. Then he grinned briefly and took her hands, staring at her greedily.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “Those demons. How did you give them the slip?”

“Oh, they were all around me. It seems they always have been.” Her face clouded as she remembered. “Hairy and evil, like humans who have been made wrong … and I always kept seeing little bits of myself in them; that was the worst part. If they hadn’t always made it clear that I was their enemy, I might have ended up believing I was one of them.” She shuddered. “But then, today, I thought I sensed you out there, Horst. I couldn’t believe it — it was the first time I’d felt anything like hope for thousands of years. And suddenly this old woman appeared, right there, among the monsters. She said, ‘Horst has come for you. Link your mynde with his, Loanna.’ Just like that. And the monsters seemed to freeze, as though time had stopped for them.”

“An old woman?” repeated Selena thoughtfully.

But Loanna wasn’t listening. She was looking at Horst, holding his hands.

“We ought to go,” said Manuel.

“Wait a moment,” said Selena. Addressing Loanna, she said, “We’re seeking knowledge from a long time ago. Do you have anything for us?”

Loanna managed to disengage a hand long enough to reach inside her cloak and bring out a glittering crystal.

“Thanks” said Selena shakily, taking it and holding it carefully. “I think that’s all we needed. We’ll leave you alone now.”

Mounting their shrugleggers, they rode out of the basin of dead Stones.

S
ELENA’S
C
HOICE

T
he wind
was strong that evening, and Selena had to cling tightly to the shruglegger’s neck as the massive creature bore her along the cliff path. Below, the dark waters thundered. It was an hour before she reached the appointed place: a cleft where the path descended to a narrow beach and the waves boomed hollowly among caves.

Mentor stepped out of the darkness and lifted her down from her mount. They kissed, and she tasted salt on his lips. After a while they entered a nearby cave illuminated by a small glowpile.

“I’ve missed you,” said Selena. “It’s been hell, trying to act normally in front of those people. Never knowing if a caracal will let something slip. Always scared I’ll use your name by accident.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” said Mentor shortly.

Selena held him at arm’s length, looking into his face. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course something’s wrong. I’m wet and I’m damned cold, and I’m getting a little tired of this cave. If you’d given me more notice, I’d have been able to stock it up with food and drink, and maybe a caracal-girl. Look at it!” He gestured at the streaming walls, the puddled floor, the pale crawling things. “This is no place for a True Human!”

“It’s only
for a short time, my love. And anyway, I’m here now. Let’s not quarrel.”

“I’m not quarreling, I’m merely stating facts. How much longer am I going to be stuck here? Is Zozula satisfied with what he’s seen?”

Rather acidly, she said, “He didn’t come here to criticize. We have problems, and he wanted to help.”

“That’s not what you told me before.”

“I was wrong. What does it matter? Today we found the data crystal, and tomorrow I’m going to get Brutus to install it and call it up on the keyboard.”

“Couldn’t you have done that tonight?”

“My God! I wanted to see
you,
don’t you understand? And you have to realize, Brutus is very sick. If it weren’t for the urgency, and if it weren’t for
you,
I’d have let him rest for a couple of days.”

“Well,” grumbled Mentor, “why don’t you do just that, if he’s so important to you? Just send me a caracal-girl with some supplies.”

“I will
not
send you a caracal-girl,” she snapped. “Are you telling me
I’m
not good enough?”

BOOK: Gods of the Greataway
2.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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