She removed part of her wall and touched him. The clarity and warmth of his mind dispelled her sadness. She could almost believe that the dark places in her mind were only clouds, easily dispersed by the sun.
—I wish our minds could always be linked, become the same—she thought fiercely.—I would be stronger then—
—Stronger—Harel laughed and his mind sang.—You're stronger than I am now, Daiya, you're the strongest person I know—
She peered at him, so startled by the thought that she could not laugh with him.
—It's true—he continued.—When I saw you here, I told myself only something unthinkable could have done that to you because of your strength, that's what frightened me the most. I couldn't imagine what could do that—
—You see, then, I'm not so strong—
—You are training yourself too hard, that's what it was—Harel thought, sure of his hypothesis.—You're strong, so you pushed yourself harder and weakened yourself more—
He pulled her to him and they lay beneath the tree, their minds mingling. She tried to forget her fears, masking them. He pressed his cheek against her face and she held him, at peace for the moment.
At last they got up and began to walk back toward the village, their lengthening shadows behind them as they moved toward the sun.
5
After supper, Daiya and Brun took the earthen bowls outside and poured water over them from a bucket while Silla scooped up some of the mud at Daiya's feet. The child slapped it into unrecognizable shapes with her mind, then let it fall over the front of her bare chest. She picked up more mud and smeared it on her arms, giggling as she did so.
Anra came out to them, wrinkling her small straight nose when she saw what Silla was doing. Brun put down the bucket, dried his hands on his tunic, then put one hand on Anra's belly, rubbing it until she smiled. She put her arms around him and they stood there silently while Daiya thought of Harel. Then they drew apart and Anra reached for Silla, pulling off the girl's muddy trousers.
—Daiya and I are going down to the river, come with us—Brun thought.
Anra shook her head and thrust the child at him.—Take Silla, you can wash her there—
—Come with us—Brun insisted.
Anra shook her head again. Daiya sensed her mother's tiredness, afraid for a moment that it would infect her too. She yawned, suddenly drowsy, even though she had already taken a nap before supper, too tired when she arrived home to do more than eat a piece of bread before collapsing on her mat. Cold water bathed her face. She jumped, alert again. Silla giggled. Daiya saw another water bubble heading toward her and broke it, sending a shower of droplets over her sister.
Brun pressed his cheek against Anra's, then picked up Silla with his stubby hands, sitting her on his shoulders. Anra gestured at the bucket and Daiya picked it up.
They made their way through the village toward the river, with Brun hailing nearly everyone he saw on the way. People sat in front of their huts and smiled as Brun sent comical images to the children, making them giggle, and lewd ones at the young women, making them laugh and snort until one woman, the tall handsome Mila StenaFiel, projected a picture of a couple in contortions so unlikely and bizarre that even Brun was startled. He quickly threw a shield in front of Daiya's mind so that she only caught a glimpse.
The riverbank was nearly empty of people. Five gray-haired Merging Ones, three women and two men, sat near the water, their minds mingling, exchanging caresses and other gestures of affection as they communed. Two young women, one of them pregnant, stripped off their clothing and waded into the water, sculpting it into pillars. Brun sat down near the river and released Silla. The child wandered toward the women and solemnly started to imitate them, lifting the water into thin wavy pillars which quickly collapsed, drenching her.
Daiya sat next to her father, feeling the eyes of the Merging Ones on her. She turned. One of the old women was staring at her; an old man nodded. She threw up her wall, feeling as though they could see through her and know everything.
Brun pulled out the wineskin he had thrust in his belt earlier, took a swig, and handed it to Daiya. She sipped at it, tasting the slightly sour fruity liquid, then handed the skin back. Brun took another draught, then stared fixedly at her, drawing his brows together. He picked absently at an insect caught in his stiff, wooly black hair. Daiya, suddenly nervous, ran her fingers through her own hair, trying to untangle the snarls that always seemed hidden in the thick, dark curly mass.
—There is something inside you, a dark spot—her father said.—I didn't feel it right away when you first came home, maybe because you were with Harel, but I sensed it when he left and so did Anra. Those old ones yonder sensed it before you threw up your wall—
Daiya peered at the Merging Ones from the sides of her eyes. They were leaving, huddled together in a knot, arms entwined.—I don't know what it is—Brun continued.—I have never felt anything quite like it, not even in my mother Rilla, who was a very moody woman full of questions—
Daiya winced as he mentioned Rilla. She kept up her wall, even though she knew her father could tear it down if he felt he must for some reason. She had never known her grandmother, who had died when Daiya was very young. She had heard only a little about her: Rilla, who was moody, who kept too many thoughts to herself, who had somehow passed her ordeal but had been unable to become a Merging One after her children were grown. She had kept part of herself from Cerwen; she had kept too much of herself from others, and had not adjusted to the communal life she was expected to live with other older people. Her unhappiness had weakened her physically to the point where even Cerwen and the other Merging Selves had been unable to keep her alive. That was all Daiya knew about her grandmother Rilla. Brun did not think about her very much, though sometimes, when Daiya was in one of her moods, she caught a wisp of a thought in her father's mind: Is she another one like Rilla?
Daiya shuddered. But she wasn't like that, not at all, she did not hide thoughts for the sake of hiding them, but because she didn't want to disturb the others. It was a phase, that was all, the result of having humors inside her body that sometimes raged out of control, and that problem would disappear after more training. And there was Harel, who could see even her darkest thoughts and dismiss them, in whose mind she could lose herself.
—I'll tell you what happened—she thought, knowing she must tell him something.—I worked very hard at my exercises, too hard perhaps, and when I was coming back, I was very weak, so weak I was sure I could not make it to the village, so I stopped to rest and for a moment I wanted to stop altogether because of my fear of what lies ahead. I slowed my heart and my lungs. Harel found me and revived me—
Brun was obviously shocked. His eyes were large. He took another swig of wine—I sensed something in Harel this afternoon, a great relief. I didn't know about this, however. It is not right to release the body before the Merged One calls you, and I am certain you didn't hear such a call—
Daiya, knowing she had to do it, reluctantly dropped her wall. She felt Brun probing her mind, searching its channels and grooves.
He withdrew and frowned.—You are very strong, Daiya, and there is something in you I cannot reach, I do not think even the Merging Ones could root it out, and perhaps it would not be good if they did. You must do it yourself. You must search yourself and rid your mind of anything which will separate you from the community and from God, or you will embark upon your journey and your ordeal and meet death—
—But I've tried—she replied, watching her father's dark eyes moisten as he felt her fear.—I know all that—
Brun put a hand on her shoulder. She felt his mind settle around hers, nestling against it, warming her with love and concern.—Remember, daughter, you are a fragment of the Merged One, a fragment which for only a moment is apart from eternity. God is reality, the rest is illusion, a dream in the mind of the Merged One—For a moment, she felt herself believing as he did, secure in his faith. Then she sensed her mind
pushing against his, a tentacle of consciousness escaping from his grasp.
—More questions—Brun thought, and she felt cold icicles jab her.—Too many questions! I'll answer the one I sensed, for I see you must be given an answer many times before you're content. Yes, there are isolates in the world, separate Selves who are born, but they are no more than the rocks and mud which God dreams, and they have no more reality than that. They cannot truly die, they are already lifeless, as dead as a piece of wood carved to resemble a man. They seek to trap us in illusion, that is all—He handed her the wineskin again and she took a long drink this time.—They are as real and as unreal as this wine—He laughed, and the ripples of laughter caught her, making her giggle. She felt his intoxication; it was making her drunk as well. She laughed again, for a moment caught by eternity; that was eternity, laughter and the moment of pleasure during lovemaking, the moments when she knew Brun was right.
Silla splashed in the water and laughed also. She stumbled toward them, reeling like a drunkard, captured by Brun's mind. Brun took off his tunic and dried her with it while Daiya hurried to the water's edge and filled the bucket. Then Brun picked up Silla and they began to walk home.
Daiya stood in the public space with Mausi, watching the cat-dancer. The woman grinned at them, shaking back her long brown hair, then folded her legs. Five cats, three white and two black, sat in front of her, fur preened, front legs stiff.
The woman seized them with her mind and they rose and danced, leaping and swooping, bounding over one another and kicking up their feet. It was a good trick. Mausi smiled, but neither she nor Daiya laughed; the cats were much too dignified for that. The animals rolled over, then sat up again in an orderly row. The two black cats had been on either end of the row before they danced; now they alternated, white, black, white, black, white. They bent their furry heads, bowing.
Daiya nodded to the woman, thanking her, then followed Mausi to a knot of people who were watching a vine-weaver. The vines crept up a trellis, twisting into shapes so elaborate it seemed they could never be untangled. Then they unraveled themselves, standing straight up, pointing to the sky. Next to the vine-weaver stood a small pavillion which shaded kegs of beer. Mausi turned a spigot with her mind, shaping the beer into globules before it hit the ground, then floated it over the heads of the nearby crowd. She turned her head up, opened her mouth, and Daiya did the same. The globules dropped. Daiya swallowed and felt the beer trickle down her throat.
Over by a table filled with fresh fruit, a young man in a brown tunic stood before a group of children. He rolled up a sleeve, took out his knife, and slashed his arm. Blood trickled from the gash. The man stanched the flow with his mind, healing the cut as the children watched, eyes narrowed as they concentrated. He gestured at a little girl. She came forward, he made a tiny cut in her arm, and stood aside while she healed herself.
Daiya felt a prodding at the edge of her consciousness and turned. Cerwen was watching her from one end of the public space. Even at a distance, he looked large, a head taller than those nearest him, his stiff graying hair like a nimbus. He motioned to her with one muscular brown arm.
Mausi glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. Daiya shrugged.—Remember—Mausi thought—if you're going out again tomorrow, I'll go with you as far as the foothills—
Daiya nodded, then walked toward her grandfather. As she moved closer to him, she felt her neck prickle and her stomach tighten. She did not smile at him; he did not smile at her.
He adjusted his gray tunic, which looked as though it was pinching his big shoulders, then took her arm, propelling her out of the space and into a nearby path. Not that he needed to hold her; if he wished, he could force her to move mentally. He walked slowly, so that she could keep up with him on her shorter legs, but she still had to walk quickly to keep pace with him. They passed Fayl NuraBaan, the blind man, another Merging One. She felt his warm greeting; his mind was filled with the smells of dirt, flowers, and sweat, the sounds of the murmuring children in the public space behind, all sharper, more pungent, more vivid than for sighted people. Fayl smiled, his sightless hazel eyes staring past them. He moved on, joining his mind to that of the old woman with him so that he could see with her eyes. If one like Fayl could pass the ordeal, Daiya thought, then surely she could.
Cerwen stopped suddenly in front of a long hut, as large as three or four family huts put together. It was a hut in which Merging Selves lived; she had been inside one only a few times. Her grandfather seemed to spend most of his time in this one, though that might not be the case. Merging Selves slept where there were spare mats and ate where there was food, migrating from hut to hut when they felt like it. They did not pay visits as frequently as others; they did not invite children and adults to their own huts very often. They did not have to, since they could easily find out what was happening elsewhere in the village and could mindspeak at a distance.
He gestured at the doorway and she went inside, knowing he had something serious to tell her. She peered around the inside of the hut, which seemed as dark as a cave, with only a space between the walls and the roof for ventilation, and no windows. Five old people sat in the center of the room, drinking wine and communing. In a far corner, two men and a woman, having apparently just finished making love, exchanged kisses while pulling on their clothes. The woman looked at Daiya and began to walk toward her while tying her shirt at her waist. Then Daiya saw who she was: Leito SeyiNen, Anra's mother, Daiya's grandmother. She searched herself, trying to recall when she had last seen Leito. She had been swallowed up by the Merging Ones; unlike Brun's mother Rilla, Leito had adapted easily. She was as close to God as one could be in this world.
Cerwen sat down and so did Daiya. Leito patted her on the head and seated herself near Cerwen. Leito still looked young. Her dark brown hair was thick and glossy, her face unlined except for a few wrinkles near her large green eyes, her body slim. I wish I were more like her, Daiya thought, thinking of both Leito's body and mind.
There was a shadow in the doorway; it entered and joined them. She looked up; it was her other grandfather, Morgen BianZeki. He grinned at her, making his round pudgy face even pudgier; his eyes were slits. She touched his friendly and uncomplicated mind, feeling a little better but knowing that only something drastic could have lured the easygoing Morgen away from his vineyards. He, too, by virtue of his unquestioning mind, was close to God and the other Merging Ones.
She drew up her legs and tried to sit still. It was her upcoming passage, of course; what else could it be? She pulled at her hair nervously, wondering why she kept thinking it might be something else which bothered them. Cerwen had called to her brother Rin before his ordeal; perhaps he had brought him to a similar meeting.
—That is partly true—Cerwen thought suddenly.—Your time approaches, Daiya, and we must have a meeting—
She glanced quickly around the hut. The five communing Merging Selves were still present; the two men who had been with Leito were seated nearby.
—I see—Cerwen went on, catching her thoughts as they were forming.—You are thinking that it is difficult to communicate with us while others are here, but they know our thoughts and we know theirs and part of what we think is what they think, and some of the thoughts you sense now are their thoughts. What does it matter if what I say comes from my mind or Leito's or Morgen's or another's, even I cannot always tell the difference. We seek unity, as you should—
The words were hard now, and sharp, stabbing her, scratching her.—You think too much of separateness and isolation. You are tempted by the evils in every human mind that would lead to anarchy and ruin if we gave in to them. You build your wall and do not think that if you build it too often and too thick that you will soon have a barrier which cannot so easily be breached, that even you may not be able to remove entirely—
Daiya shrank, pressing her forehead against her knees. Those thoughts were coming from Leito, made stronger by her greater unity with other Merging Ones.—You would build y
our wall now if you could, Daiya—
She gasped, realizing that was exactly what she was trying to do. Leito withdrew a bit. Daiya lifted her hands to her face; she was shaking, her forehead was wet.
—There is something in you—Leito went on. Her thoughts vibrated in Daiya's mind and she knew they were the thoughts of many Merging Ones.—There is something in you which we have all felt. It was weaker before, and now it has grown, and we shall tell you what it has done. We have thought, some of us, that we must take you and strip away every layer of consciousness, and root it out, even if it means your madness and death—Daiya froze, wanting to flee from the hut but unable to move, held by the power of many minds.—And others have thought that we must leave you to face it, to suffer the ordeal you must suffer and live through it or die, that your fate is in the hands of God. Do you understand what that means, you wretched girl—The thoughts were burning her, searing her. She whimpered and crumpled to the ground, pressing her cheek against the dirt floor.—There is a division, a separation, a disagreement among us, the Merging Ones, you are dividing us, you are drawing us away from the Merged One and closer to a world no more real than the dreams you have at night when you sleep—
Daiya gasped for air, feeling the words would crush her. She clutched at the floor, then felt something cold against her cheek. A bubble of water was floating near her, held there by Morgen's mind. She opened her mouth and caught it. Refreshed by the cold water, she managed to sit up again.
—I believe you must come to terms with yourself—Cerwen thought, as gently as he could.—Your ordeal approaches. If you cannot overcome this deficiency, you will die. If you do overcome it, you will come back and take your place among us and merge with us as you grow closer to reality. To tear at your mind now would almost certainly condemn you to death and separateness as well. My reasoning, at least, has convinced the others, though their feelings may not assent to it. I shall be right, one way or the other, and our division will be healed—
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