First Channel s-3

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Kadi went to sit beside Jord, saying, “You don’t have to ask. We’ll do anything we can for you.”

  Jord shrank from Kadi’s presence. “I know what I am, You were right in the first place, Father—we are all cursed. Our strongest will is nothing before the compulsion of our nature. I had no malice toward Jon. He simply—came in the way! It could have been anyone. I no longer even distinguish between Sime and Gen—Father, instead of Rimon, it might have been you, Mother, anyone! Oh, God help me —I can’t walk anywhere safely now. There is no place left for me.”

  How was it possible, Rimon wondered, for Jord to understand so well, while Abel with all his experience couldn’t see it? We are killers by nature. The Gens can refuse to die, but we cannot refuse to kill.

  Abel was saying, “Jord, there is one place for you: where Rimon stands—beyond the kill. Remember when Kadi was pregnant, and Rimon lived on Willa’s selyn? That was before he passed through his crisis. Now he takes selyn routinely from any Gen who will offer it, and they feel no pain. You have done it, too. You know how.”

  “But I wouldn’t dare anymore. I—”

  “Don’t say it,” answered Abel. “Jord, my son—we have all erred. Accept that, and pray for forgiveness. But don’t make one sin the excuse for others. Learn from your error —no one is safe until he has passed through the trail that Rimon passed through. Rimon, weeks ago I recognized that my son was approaching this crisis, and I was blinded by pride. I led you to presume we had found the key to safety for our Gen children here at Fort Freedom—but so long as there is any Sime in the community who has not passed through the test, we can’t have them here. We must still be ready to give up our children when we must.”

  “Oh, Abel,” said Kadi, her nager aching with Abel’s pain. A thought cut through Rimon. What would it be like to give up Zeth after ten or fifteen years of watching him grow?

  Zlinning him lightly, Abel said, “Rimon—if we help, perhaps you would be willing to take in any of our Gen children who elect to stay on this side of the border now?”

  “Willa,” said Jord, very painfully. “I hurt her—insulted her, and then left her. She may never forgive me, but if she does—what am I to do? I love her, and yet—oh, God, what if I kill her, too?”

  “You can’t,” said Kadi. “That much I know. There is a test for Gens, too—and Jon failed it. If he had ever gotten beyond covering his fear with defiance, all that would have happened would have been a simple transfer. No one would have been hurt.”

  Jord got up and moved restlessly about the room, stopping at the fireplace to stare into the flames. “No,” he said at last. “No, we can’t blame it all on Jon. I should have been able to resist his fear.”

  “Not in that condition,” said Abel.

  “I agree,” said Kadi. “Jord, does your God blame you for having human limits? We can go on trying to stay alive —or we can quit and die. I wasn’t raised to be a quitter.” She met Rimon’s gaze and some of her fire flashed to him. “Neither were you, Rimon Farris.”

  Zeth. Rimon had gone on then; he could go on now. Killing was unnatural because it prevented people from staying alive. Life itself was the greatest value.

  “All right, Abel. We’ll take in your Gens—for a while. Until you can take them back.”

  “Father! No—send them across the border—”

  “Jord, God will expect us to get up and go forward. But we must learn from what has happened. First, though, must come Jon’s funeral.”

  Jord went dead white. “Father, I can’t—”

  “You will attend. Everyone will attend. Go ring the bell, Jord, and tell everyone to assemble in the chapel. I must go and tell the Foresters what I plan.”

  As if this whole thing were entirely his responsibility.

  Within hours, a funeral cortege marched from Fort Freedom along the hill trail toward the border—where Jon was to be buried exactly on the border itself. The trail was frozen mud again, the digging of the grave difficult. Jord pitched into that work, as if the physical labor were a kind of expiation—or, perhaps, simply because it gave him something to do instead of standing to be stared at in horror.

  The chill wind made Kadi shiver, and Rimon drew her close, warming her with his own body heat. Willa, still radiating a bewildered anger, remained near the Veritts until Kadi, seeing her start to shake despite her warm clothing, reached out and drew her to them, handing Zeth to her. Rimon didn’t know why she did it, until the girl began to rock the baby, her attention at last on something besides her husband. Slowly the fury faded.

  Occasionally, Rimon zlinned Gen Territory. This large a gathering of Simes was a perfect target for Gen guns should the border patrol happen along. Possibly the danger was a part of the penance; he didn’t really understand Abel’s methods. He sensed hostility toward Jord, but people quickly smothered it, as if waiting for permission to release their feelings.

  When the Foresters stepped forward to place a wreath of evergreen branches on their son’s casket, Abel spoke to them softly, and then took his place beside the grave.

  “We have all faced death before,” he said, “but it is never easy. Today we assemble to mourn the passing of Jon Forester. By now it is no secret to anyone here how Jon died: my son killed him.”

  At the bald statement, a shock ran through the listeners. Abel went on. “However, Jord was only the immediate instrument of Jon’s death. We’re all to blame, all guilty– and yet, most of all, we’re guilty of demanding too much, too soon.

  “Jon Forester had courage. Yes—the most difficult kind of courage; for although he failed, he overcame his failures to try again and again to learn transfer. Jon died a martyr to the cause of life. Because he knew Simes could and should live without killing, he remained among Simes when he could have gone across the border to his own safety. God cannot ask more of any man. Let us pray for the soul of Jon Forester, who is surely now in heaven.”

  As Abel prayed, Rimon noticed the Foresters and a number of other people crying—but in many, there was still a tight control. Jord, in particular, remained dry-eyed, pale, even his nager a kind of separate field, as if he could not touch or respond in any way.

  After the prayers, Abel said, “Probably you wonder why we have come here to bury the body of Jon Forester, instead of interring it in the consecrated ground near the chapel. No consecrated ground is required; the body of a martyr consecrates the ground it is laid in. Jon is not the first martyr to the cause we have vowed to follow. We must all face the inevitable fact: he will not be the last.”

  Abel waited until the murmur of horror died down before he continued. “We are in a pitched battle with the forces of evil, and since the evil lies within ourselves, the casualties of that battle must come from among ourselves. Our goal must be to lose as few lives as we possibly can– and to be sure that no life is wasted!

  “Jon Forester did not die in vain, unless you make it so. If you give up the hope of life without killing, Drust Fenell, Vee Lassiter, and Jon Forester all died in vain. If a second life is lost because we encourage Gens who have not learned not to fear, to walk freely among Simes who have not yet learned not to kill—then that life is wasted. Only if we learn that lesson is Jon’s death not in vain.

  “We must pray constantly that God will grant us to learn quickly.” There were tears in the old man’s voice. “I have asked myself, over and over, why God saw fit to place Jon in my son’s path at just that moment. Why was Jord presented with the test when he was in no condition to pass it? I think it’s a lesson for all of us: we can fail. I’ve failed—every time I’ve tried not to kill. So have many of you. We all had our hopes bound up in Henry Steers—we have all done without to contribute to the fund to buy his freedom. Was that, too, a vain effort? I think not. Henry Steers had a son, a boy who is somewhere in this Territory. Had he lived, his father would have sought for him—and now, we will do it for him. Rimon—”

  “Abel, how can I—?”

  “You know more than any o
f us. We must search. We must try. God always expects us to try.” As far as Abel was concerned, it was settled. Rimon looked down at Zeth, and knew that he had been drawn into Abel’s hopes and schemes again. But now, the general expiation assigned, Abel turned to the specific one.

  “Jord, step forward.”

  As if hypnotized, Jord joined his father.

  “My son, Rimon Farris was sent to teach the first lesson: that Simes do not have to kill. You have a second lesson to teach us: God does not condemn us for our failures. Will you teach us that lesson, Jord? Will you face the test again when God chooses to repeat it, and this time pass it?”

  “If it is God’s will,” Jord replied.

  “Do you repent of killing Jon Forester?”

  “You know I do!” Jord choked out.

  “Then will you do penance, in prayer and in works, to atone for your sin?” Jord’s fierce control broke, and tears of healing grief rolled down his cheeks. He fell to his knees before his father. “Anything,” he said. “Just tell me what to do.”

  Abel placed his hand on Jord’s head. “You have taken Jon’s selyn.”

  Oh no! thought Rimon. Don’t load that on him, too!

  But Jord only nodded, and Abel continued, “This month you will use that selyn in acts of penance for past mistakes, and of enduring hope for the future. First, you will fill in Jon’s grave, obliterating any indication of the burial. This is not only that marauders may not desecrate the grave, but as a symbol that one day the border itself may be obliterated, when there will be no more divisions and no more martyrs.”

  “Yes, Father,” Jord replied.

  “And you’ll spend the rest of this month preparing a monument for the chapel in Fort Freedom, that the names of those who’ve died for our cause shall never be forgotten. You will hew the granite alone, polish the stone, and carve into it the names of Drust Fenell, Vee Lassiter, and Jon Forester. All future generations who look upon that stone will be reminded that their lives rest upon the deaths of others, and will join in our pledge that those deaths will not be in vain.”

  As penance, the concept made little sense to Rimon– but as a mark of continuity, of a living dream, the idea moved him deeply. Around him, he felt the emotions change, anger and resentment at lord disappearing. lord, now sobbing in heartfelt cleansing grief, was returned to the community.

  Willa stared at her husband, her frustrated resentment slowly fading. Finally, she handed Zeth back to Kadi, and went to kneel beside Jord, putting her arms around him. People began to withdraw. Rimon and Kadi went back to their home, leaving Jord and Willa to work out whatever they could to salvage their marriage.

  Spring finally came to stay. This year Rimon waited to plow his fields until after the floods—but the floods didn’t come. “Some farmer!” he told Kadi. “I should have guessed that less snow this past winter would mean less runoff in the spring.”

  But Rimon didn’t allow the time to go to waste. Besides earning extra money working for Del and Fort Freedom, he consulted with Slina to determine the most likely location of Henry Steers’ son—if he were still alive. They knew he hadn’t been taken with his father to the Farris Genfarm. There were only two establishments that dealt in quantities of pre-Gen children. If he hadn’t yet established —or possibly changed over—there was about a seventy-five per cent probability that he was at one of those Pens. Otherwise, he could be anywhere, in one of the scattered Pens like Slina’s. In that case, a Pen-by-Pen search was the only way to find him, and there was no way to do that.

  Twelve was still young; there was a good chance the boy would not establish for a year or more, so in early summer, when Rimon and Del took some horses to High Canyon, Rimon made a detour to check out the Villiers Genfarm. Only one of the Villiers pre-Gens was a boy of somewhere around twelve, Rimon managed to speak a few words with him in English, found that he was not Henry Steers, Jr., but learned that there had been a boy called Hank—and maybe it was Steers, but he didn’t remember—in the same shipment he had been in at one point.

  Except for the possible clue that Steers’ son had survived to be sold, it was a dead end. Rimon found it grueling to have to leave the boy. However, he was lean and spare-framed, a typical pre-Sime build. If he changed over, he’d have to work off whatever price Villiers paid for him, but he’d be all right if he could face becoming Sime. The only way Rimon could walk away was to convince himself of that.

  His own homestead was growing enough without adding more children, even if he could afford to buy the boy. Both the young Gens who had been living with their families in Fort Freedom decided to stay on this side of the border, even after Jon’s death. Rimon feared it was Abel’s speech at the funeral that had persuaded them. They were starry-eyed kids, caught up in Abel’s dream and determined that they wouldn’t “fail the test.”

  So they came to Rimon and Kadi, their families helping to build on to Rimon’s house, providing supplies and labor, and also giving him the tax money for their children. The boys’ skills were welcome. Sordal Kent was already a good farmer and Len Deevan had been apprenticed to the herbalist. He took one stroll through their tunnel and asked Rimon, “Why aren’t you growing mushrooms in here?”

  “Mushrooms?” answered Rimon. They were a favorite food he’d missed lately. “I don’t really know enough about cultivating mushrooms to attempt it. Neither does Kadi.”

  “Will you let me? I can get Mr. Lansing to help. Next year, you can take some to market when you go with Mr. Erick!”

  Rimon authorized the plan, to be strictly supervised by Fort Freedom’s master herbalist, and their first real industry was enthusiastically founded.

  During all this, Rimon sensed a renewed unity among the folk of Fort Freedom. The month of lord’s penance had worked wonders. Jord labored hard, alone, Willa never far away. Zlinning them as she watched her husband, Rimon found that Jord was under control again. Abel’s plan was working; this time, Jord was going to succeed.

  The ceremony for the unveiling of the monument held a real surprise. Jord had added a fourth name that hadn’t been there the previous evening. As the first rays of the rising sun struck the smooth granite surface, the name of Billy Kell leaped out at Rimon. Billy Kell. Drust Fenell. Vee Lassiter. Jon Forester.

  Billy. Rimon forced himself to breathe evenly, not to give Kadi the slightest hint of his pain, as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Billy trusted me—they.all trusted me. Who’ll be next? Abel? Kadi?

  Beside him, Del was crying, Carlana observing serenely. And not a trace of surprise from Kadi. When the two women exchanged glances, Rimon knew that one of them had put Jord up to this. He didn’t want to know which.

  Yet, after the ceremony, Rimon noticed that Del seemed less tense than he had in months, and Rimon, despite refusing himself the luxury of tears, felt that some indefinable burden had been lifted. There was something to be said for Abel’s methods after all.

  Summer brought Gen Raiders. Slina seethed, for she had predicted the retaliations as she struggled to keep enough Gens in supply to provide for both the town and Fort Freedom. Although she hadn’t run completely out before a shipment had come through, it was unclear whether she would have been able to provide for the whole town if some of the town Simes had not gone raiding across the border. She claimed she could have, though, loudly, to anyone who’d listen. But as the town had no mayor, council, or even any form of law officer, there was no one to whom she could make an official complaint.

  The effects of the illness in Slina’s Pens were widespread. Although Rimon’s carefully shielded homestead survived, they lost half a field of wheat to the fire the Raiders set. One group of Gens defied the barrier of the mountains when what was usually a raging river slowed to a stream. They rampaged across Del’s property, cutting his fences, carrying away some of the precious wire, and making off with twenty of his finest horses. Wryly, Del told everyone that he was glad their greed had sent them back across the border with their loot without attacking deeper i
n-Territory. But everyone knew he couldn’t afford such a loss.

  Rimon and Kadi were doing better financially—but they had to. This summer the two years would be up, and their homestead would no longer be a homestead, but their own land, free and clear—except for the property tax Rimon would have to start paying on it. Now Rimon took every job he could get.

  Kadi would have been glad to work in the fields of Fort Freedom with Rimon, but while the women of Fort Freedom worked hard in their own fields, none of them would ever hire out for pay. She and Rimon decided it might be best not even to mention it to Abel. Del, however, was constantly shorthanded.

  So Kadi, who could handle horses just as well as Rimon, went to work for Del, leaving Zeth in Carlana’s care most of the day. Rimon soon saw that Kadi had a knack for the work that he hadn’t. The men from Fort Freedom who hired out to Del would escort Kadi and Zeth back and forth, and after a few raised eyebrows, it was accepted that Kadi was—as usual—different from the women they were used to, but not therefore bad.

  Despite all his problems, Rimon felt a certain satisfaction when his homestead became his own property. He’d have to travel to the Territory Capital to obtain his deed: five days each way. It would be Summer Fair at the Capital —a time when all the largest merchants would display their wares. He promised Abel to look again for Steers’ son, and if he wasn’t there, to go on across the Territory to the Varnst Genfarm, their last hope of locating the boy. Abel, then, entrusted him with all the money that had been gathered to buy Steers—a fund Fort Freedom had kept intact in the constant hope that they’d somehow be able to locate Henry Steers, Jr.

  Originally Del had planned to take a herd of horses along to the Summer Fair, but with the depletion through the raid as well as having to sell off stock to pay for extra hired hands, he didn’t have enough to make the trip worth his while because he couldn’t file the deed of ownership to his ranch until a month later. So Rimon and Kadi agreed to take five of Del’s horses to sell for him.