Clarion

by William Greenleaf

  "Look at this," Selmer said. He had gathered up several of the silver disks. Now he held out a few for the others to see. "They're all different." Paul took one of the disks and looked more

  closely at it, then at the others Selmer held. He realized Selmer was right. Although the disks were all the same size and faded silvery color, each had a different image engraved on its face. The image on the one Paul held was similar to that of Lord Tern—an insectoid creature with a face that belonged in a nightmare. But another one depicted a cone-shaped object. Only when he saw the facial features grouped in the upper tapered end did Paul realize this was a living creature. Small appendages that might have been arms hung at the sides. The creature was positioned so that it seemed to be looking directly out at the viewer.

  "Maybe we should try that one," Karyn said. "It doesn't look anything like Lord Tern." That sounded better to Paul, but he still had William Greenleaf

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  reservations. "For all we know, that one might be worse than Lord Tern. It's too risky—"

  "We're accustomed to taking risks."

  "Besides, we don't know how the chauka works—"

  "Sure we do," Selmer said. He took one of the disks over to the protruding rod. "You saw High Elder Brill do it. You touch the Godstone to the end of the rod like this, and—"

  Snap

  Selmer jerked back, looking at the disk in his hand, then at the rod.

  "Are you all right?" Karyn asked.

  "Yeah," Selmer said. He sounded shaken.

  "Didn't expect that, is all."

  Paul's eyes had gone to the dish of the chauka. He realized he was holding his breath and released it, then drew another. Nothing was happening.

  "This one doesn't work," Karyn said. "Or maybe there's more to it than the Godstone." She looked up at Paul. "You said High Elder Brill chanted and waved his arms. Do you think he really accomplished anything with that?"

  "I doubt it," Paul answered without taking his eyes off the chauka. Brill's actions had held more than a hint of ceremony, and probably were meant to impress the deacons and the other elders with his power. Logic said that the silver disk was the key.

  "But I didn't—"

  Then his breath caught in his throat. A glow was beginning to form above the chauka. A sharp intake of air came from someone behind him. Shadowy forms gathered amid the haze and distortion. Paul felt something touch him inside.

  Suddenly the shadows above the chauka came

  together and a creature emerged. Paul watched, unable to move. The creature swayed gently back and forth-above the chauka. It wasn't at all like Lord Tern, but instead had the appearance of the

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  cone that was engraved on the silver disk. An appendage on the bottom resembled a giant, flattened starfish. The entire body was covered with light brown fur.

  Then something in the room changed. Paul took an involuntary step backward. Pressure was building inside him. Daddy ...

  The pressure heightened and became a strong sensation of awareness inside his head. He covered his ears with his hands, but the voice penetrated deep into him.

  Daddy . . .

  Through the darkness he felt a calming touch. He reached out to pull it close.

  The strength of the child.

  Time passed. Shadows flitted through him, and he was aware of exterior sounds and movement, but he couldn't bring the presence in. He didn't want to bring it in.

  Reality lurched.

  He became aware of light filtering through his closed eyelids, of cool air on his face and of something solid behind his back.

  He drew in a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. At first nothing made sense: the circular room littered with rubble, thick vines creeping across the floor and up the broken walls, the oddly shaped pedestals. Then his eyes found Selmer and Karyn where they stood against the wall, blinking around as if roused from a deep sleep. Seeing them brought back a sense of reality.

  With a feeling of dread, Paul forced himself to look toward the middle of the room. The air above the chauka was still.

  "She's gone," Doriand said quietly. Paul tried to speak, and instead coughed to clear the drying raspness of his throat. "She?" He was having trouble concentrating on Dorland's words. 152

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  "Female, yes," Dorland said. "She gave me her name, but I couldn't get it right. She was here only a few minutes, then she . . . faded away. I don't know why. She talked to me. I couldn't understand much of what she said, but there's no doubt she's Tal Tahir."

  Paul tried again to get his thoughts in order. She's Tal Tahir. That made no sense. Lord Tern certainly did not resemble a man, but at least he had two legs and two functioning arms and a head that looked somewhat humanoid. The creature that had stood swaying above the chauka had none of those things. One part of what Dorland had said somehow

  struck him as even more implausible than the rest.

  "You talked to her?"

  Dorland nodded.

  "I didn't—"

  "You and the others blacked out. She tried to communicate, but it was too strong for you. She knew something was wrong, and was trying to overcome it. I think she had determined a way to lessen the effect of her presence on you before she went away."

  "But you ..."

  "My training helped, somehow. The technique Elder Jamis taught me—I was able to close off those parts of my mind that were affected by her communication. I've never done it before, but it seemed natural."

  "How long were we out?" Karyn asked.

  "About ten minutes." Dorland's eyes moved restlessly around the room, returned to the chauka.

  "That's how long she stayed."

  Paul focused his eyes on Dorland. "How do you know she was Tal Tahir?"

  "She told me."

  "But—" Paul drew a steadying breath. "If she's Tal Tahir, then Lord Tern—"

  "That's a problem." Dorland didn't seem too concerned. He looked down at his hand, and Paul realized he held the Godstone. The silver disk had been the key after all. // 's like a public commset: you put in your udit card and make your call.

  "We'll have to ask her about Lord Tern," Dorland went on. "I'm sure she can help us find a way to stop High Elder Brill and Lord Tern."

  "She's gone," Paul pointed out.

  "We can bring her back with the Godstone," Dorland said. He held up the disk in his hand. "Her Godstone."

  Paul stared at him. "How can you be so sure she can help us after a ten-minute chat?"

  "It's just a ... feeling I got." Dorland turned back to the chauka. "She isn't dangerous. She doesn't want to hurt anybody. Surely you could feel that."

  The creature hadn't looked dangerous, Paul had to admit. While Lord Tern's appearance suggested that he was built for speed and strength, this creature looked almost planted in place. Those thin, dangling upper limbs and the cone-shaped body made it look anything but aggressive. And this creature had . . . felt different inside. The alien sensation that had crawled through Paul from Lord Tern had been icy cold. This time the feeling had not been exactly comfortable, but neither had it been terribly unpleasant.

  "You really think she can help us?" Karyn asked.

  "I'm sure of it."

  Karyn's eyes went again to the chauka. "Then I think we should call her back if we can."

  "Me, too," Selmer agreed.

  Paul knew it would be pointless to argue. "We'll let Dorland do it alone this time. It doesn't bother him. The rest of us can wait outside."

  "I think you should stay," Dorland said. "She wants to speak to you, too."

  "After what happened? I don't—"

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  "She understands now that you're vulnerable. She'll be more careful."

  Paul laughed harshly. "I suppose she told you that, too."

  "Yes."

  Paul gave up. He braced himself against the wall and said, "Go ahead
."

  Dorland eagerly turned back to the chauka and touched the disk to the rod. The snap came again, and the haze formed above the dish. Shadows twisted. Then the creature began to take shape, and a moment later stood facing them. Paul realized that the conelike body had depressions and bulges all over it, and cavities he didn't want to look at too closely. There was no clothing that he could discern, nor ornamentation of any kind. He winced as he felt a tentative tingle in his mind, then a drawing away.

  She's being careful this time, he thought.

  A flap near the top of the cone drew open.

  Something came out of it on two flexible tendons and wavered toward Paul.

  "She wants you to step closer," Dorland said quietly.

  The tingle was back, but this time Paul felt an odd sensation with it. A sense of beckoning. He resisted, and felt a warm rush of... affection?

  He did not feel danger. He drew a steadying breath and forced himself to step forward until his shins were touching the edge of the dish. He saw now that the creature's extended tendons flared slightly at the ends into small round nubs of tissue. He stood rigid while the two nubs hovered around his face. They passed by his eyes, then withdrew to perch together under the closed flap.

  The pressure began to grow again in his mind. He flinched, and the feeling instantly withdrew to hover at the, edge of awareness like a barely heard sound. It was alien, but nothing like the caged hatred he'd felt from Lord Tern. This was calmer, almost soothing.

  "She's trying to communicate," Dorland said.

  "She's . . . asking—" He shook his head and looked up at the creature. "I lost it." Paul thought: We've rubbed the magic lantern, and we have our genie. Now if we could only talk to it. ..

  Something touched his mind again. He felt an unmistakable sense of gender. There was nothing about the creature's physical appearance to suggest that Dorland was right, but somehow Paul knew he was. The creature was female.

  He felt another wavering impression:

  *(?)*

  Then something else came—almost a sound, but very vague. He cocked his head, listening.

  *Kra'ith*

  It was a sound, but it registered in Paul's mind even though he knew his ears had not picked it up. The single word was accompanied by a feeling of—

  Paul frowned. Acceptance? He glanced at Dorland, and could see that Dorland had felt it, too. Something familiar, like meeting a close friend after a long separation.

  *Kra'ith (?)*

  Dorland and Paul looked at each other.

  "Her name?" Paul suggested.

  "I'm not sure," Dorland said. "I think she's asking a question."

  Paul realized he'd felt it, too. A query. "Maybe she wants to know who we are."

  *Kra'ith (7)*

  "I don't think so," Karyn said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was steady but strained. She did not step closer to the chauka. "It feels . . . different from a question about a name."

  "I wonder—" Dorland began. Then something else came through:

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  *Eh-hli-seph-eh*

  A feeling of belonging came with that.

  "•That's her name," Karyn said.

  Paul knew instinctively that she was right. How did I /enow? An impression, but solid enough to make him certain. He realized then that what came to his mind was more than sounds.

  *Eh-hli-seph-eh*

  Paul tried to repeat the word aloud but found that he couldn't get his human tongue around it.

  "Elli," Dorland said.

  The creature's sensor nubs moved back and

  forth. Dorland pointed at the creature. "Elli."

  "•Eh-hli*

  "Close enough," Dorland said. He hitched himself up onto one of the pedestals. "Let's get to work."

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE PROCESS OF COMMUNICATION WASN'T EASY.

  At first Elli's thoughts came in fragments that didn't always fit together. Sorting the fragments mentally and fitting them back together sometimes led to a rough understanding of what she was trying to get across. For Paul, the experience was almost like a dream that skipped randomly from scene to scene, and the reward for finally getting it right was always the same: an immediate rush of warmth and affection.

  After an hour of trial and error, Elli's thoughts began to come through more clearly, as if she had learned how to focus them more effectively on the humans. By that time she was adding Basic words and phrases to the concepts. Paul wasn't sure whether she had actually learned the language that quickly from speaking with them, or if instead his own mind was somehow dealing with her thought projections by doing its own translation. The mingling of Basic and conceptual thought made under-standing come more easily, but it was not entirely comfortable. It was as if the words reached one part 157

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  of Paul's brain and the projected concepts reached another. Pulling the two together required an effort that made his nerves stand on end. In addition to that, the concepts still were not always sequenced or ordered in a way that made sense in human terms.

  During that first hour they discovered two fundamental principles of Elli's communicative process. First, they learned that she could understand them only if they spoke aloud. They could not project their thoughts directly to her as she projected to them. Second, they found that Elli's communication reached exactly to the outer ring of pedestals. One step beyond that point and her thoughts were abruptly cut off. There was no way for them to know if that was by design or coincidence. But even though Paul and Dorland learned how to communicate more effectively with Elli, they hadn't made any real progress in getting useful information from her, and after three hours, Paul was beginning to feel the tingle of anxiety. Now Dorland had come back to a subject they had touched on several times. The question he asked was simple enough:

  "Where are you?"

  Elli's reply was a variation of the one she'd given each time he asked the question:

  *Eh-hli (negative)——(?)*

  As far as Dorland and Paul had been able to determine, she was simply saying that she didn't understand the question. Paul wasn't even sure if the question was important. They had tested his observation about Lord Tern by placing one of the light globes behind Elli. Paul wasn't surprised to find that the globe was faintly visible through her body. That reinforced his belief that her image was being transmitted from someplace else, but it didn't answer the question of where.

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  Dorland asked the question again and got the same vague response. Then he gave up and tried another major question they had tossed back and forth several times:

  "Tell us what you know about Lord Tern."

  ^Recognition) (Nontouch/nonyouth) Eh-hli (unpleasantness)*

  Again, a variation of the response she had given each time Lord Tern's name was mentioned. It was clear that Elli knew of him, or of others like him—but she didn't want to talk about him.

  "This is important," Paul said, leaning forward closer to Elli. "We have to know about Lord Tern—"

  The sensation of an enormous sigh swept out from Elli and over Paul.

  *It can——Eh-hli struggles with the limitation of your (speak/think) emotional breath— (Confusion)*

  "You can say that again," Paul muttered.

  *You know (share) many——in the group

  (home)——. Eh-hli (?) young (group/touch)*

  "Group/touch," Dorland repeated thoughtfully. She had used the term often, but never in a way that made it clear what she meant.

  *"(Group/touch) kra'ith (Youth) Eh-hli (?)*

  Kra'ith. It came through as a sound that was clearly the Tal Tahir word for what she was trying to get across. It came to Paul as an unmistakable feeling of warmth and acceptance from a group of friends. More than acceptance—protection, much the way a secure child would feel toward a nurturing parent. Paul felt the entire sensation in the space of an instant, fi
tted in among the other concepts that were just as clear and as brief.

  "Elli is kra'ithT Dorland asked.

  *(Confusion) kra'ith (group/touch)*

  Suddenly Elli blurred and disappeared, and from the chauka came a crackling sound like the disWilliam Greenleaf 160

  charge of electricity. Dorland slipped the disk out of his pocket and touched it to the end of the rod. The device snapped, then began the process of resurrecting Elli. They had gone through this procedure several times before it occurred to Paul to time the length of her stay. The interval was always the same—just over twelve minutes before she would disappear. But the silver disk always brought her back, and she and Dorland continued with their conversation as if there had been no interruption. Paul found himself wondering: Why is she so willing to come every time Dorland calls heri Motives—first Lord Tern's and now Elli's. What were they getting out of this relationship with humans?

  He turned and walked among the pedestals to the doorway for some fresh air. The sounds of voices from the roof filtered down the stairway behind him. Karyn had gone up to the roof to join Jacque two hours ago. Paul was sure that she would be pressing to return to the cave before long. She had lost contact with Sabastian and wasn't sure if they had gone outside the range of the fartalker or if something had happened at the camp.

  He turned back to the chamber.

  *(Youth) Kra'ith*

  Paul caught a fleeting impression other meaning. Dorland had felt it, too.

  "You want to know about our . . . children?" he asked.

  *(!) (Acceptance) (Group/touch)*

  "They aren't here," Dorland answered, watching her intently. He waved a hand out toward the village of Fairhope. "There are children out there. None here."

  *(?) Kra'ith (Youth, group/touch) (Acceptance)*

  "What is the importance of the children?" Dorland asked.