Looking, Alea saw the guards disappearing down a broad stairway, Celia right behind them. With a little cry, Alea started after.
"Gently, child, gently." The priestess touched her shoulder.
Looking back, Alea saw that she smiled with kindly amusement.
"Your brother will wait for us," the priestess assured her. "First, though, it is you who must wait for him."
She led Alea to an anteroom where there were padded chairs with small tables between. Pastel frescoes brightened the walls.
"Bide here in patience," the priestess said. "An acolyte will bring you refreshment. Your brother will be with you in an hour or so. Then we shall tell you if we can do anything to heal his brain."
"Heal his brain?" Alea started up in alarm. "What do you mean to do?"
"Now, now, we only mean to discover the cause of his wits coming and going," the priestess said in a soothing tone. "We will not truly do anything to him without telling you and having your consent."
Alea sat back but eyed the priestess warily.
"Trust the goddess, my dear," the priestess said with a reassuring touch on her hand, then turned through the curtained archway and was gone.
Alea sat alone, frowning at the murals and trying to puzzle out the story from what was shown there. She saw a young man in rough garb gazing through the rushes at the side of a pond; within the water stood a young woman, and the positions of her hands showed that she was bathing, but her body was only a burst of brightness, and the expression on the young man's face was awe. The young woman, however, seemed irritated, as any young woman might be in her place. Nearby, six hounds lay; two were coming to their feet.
Footsteps padded; and Alea looked up to see a sleepy teenage girl bearing a tray with some small cakes, a tall pitcher, and a cup. She set them on the little table beside Alea, then stepped back, saying, "Do you need anything more, Lady?"
"No ... no, this will do well." Alea smiled at the younger woman. "I thank you-and I am sorry to disturb your sleep."
The girl smiled in return. "We who would serve the goddess must be ever ready to come to her service; Lady. Do not hesitate to call out if you have need."
"Thank you," Alea said. "I shall."
"I saw you studying the picture." The girl turned to gaze at the mural, too. "It would seem to be only the huntsman coming upon the goddess unadorned, in her role as maiden and hunter, for which offense, unintended or not, he died-but the priestesses tell me there is a deeper meaning hidden in the story, even a Mystery." She turned back to Alea with a smile of embarrassment. "I have not yet discovered it, though. I have a great deal to learn."
"So have I," Alea said, "but since I must wait here, I shall contemplate the scene. Perhaps I shall discover what it represents."
"Perhaps so. I wish you good fortune." But the girl's eyes went round in awe and she made a small curtsy before she went out again.
Alea frowned after her, wondering what had bothered the girl-then realized that the lass thought Alea must needs be an initiate to be able to speak of discovering a Mystery.
Well, perhaps she would at that, though not in the way the acolyte thought. Alea composed herself, gazing at the mural as though in meditation--but as her body relaxed and stilled, her mind opened, seeking the thoughts of the people within this temple-first Orgo, who was still in peril despite Gar's temporary surgery, then Gar himself.
If she could still find him.
8
Orgo was underneath the temple asleep; Alea wondered how he could nod off in the midst of such turmoil, then realized the two who bore him must have given him a sleeping draft-for she was surprised to discover that their minds were not those of the guards; the priestess's escort must have handed the boy over to these two priests as soon as they had carried the boy to the stairwell.
The priests-scarcely more than acolytes, she realized from their talk-were standing in a small room beside Orgo's stretcher, chatting about the "case," as they called the boy. There was a slight jarring and the doors of the room slid back. The men carried the stretcher-no, it was a sort of table with wheels; they must have put Orgo on it when the guards brought the boy to them. They rolled him into a large room and lifted him onto a bed with a sort of tunnel over it They pushed the bed into the tunnel, then watched a set of pictures on its side-and wonder of wonders,
Alea could see inside Orgo! One picture showed his bones, and the flesh seemed ghostly over them; another showed his lungs, but they weren't light and empty, as she always had thought lungs should be; they seemed cloudy, with only the very top being completely clear.
"Congested,". one of the young priests said, "and he's picked up some kind of a germ that caused an overabundance of mucus."
"An antibiotic should take care of it."
Alea listened to them discuss whether or not they would need a surgeon, blood chilled; she knew that a surgeon meant cutting-but the young priests decided that they could wait a day or two and see what the drugs would do. Alea didn't understand all their words, but she caught the gist-- that they were going to give Orgo some sort of medicine, and that he would live.
But what a wondrous assortment of machinery they had! She was sure it was machinery-she had seen enough of Herkimer to know that, and seen the pictures of modern civilizations he had shown her. What were such wonders doing here in a Neolithic society?
Time later to consider the question-first she had to find Gar. She opened her mind wide again, expanding her attention to include the whole temple and the hill on which it stood until she recognized the overtones of his thoughts. She narrowed her attention to include only Gar and the priest and priestess who spoke to him.
He was far underground, too, in a small room that was painted in earth tones with lovely pictures stirring on the walls-amazingly, the trees and flowers they showed moved in an unseen breeze. Gar sat in a padded chair, one with a back high enough to cushion even his head. The priest and priestess sat in similar chairs, the priest behind a desk with a screen inset; from time to time, he glanced at the screen to make sure the transcription of their interview was proceeding properly. It was; words rolled up across the screen in even lines.
The colonists had buried their spaceship, Alea realized, or perhaps only one of their landing craftshe suspected there were many hills like this throughout the land. The ancestors must have come in a fleet and left their descendants the machinery and chemicals of modern medicine. What had Gar said-that the colonists had cheated? He would certainly think so now!
"Good, then." The priestess smiled, relaxing. "You see, we are your friends."
Alea wondered how she had gone about proving that and how long Gar had pretended to remain suspicious, simply to be believable. On the other hand, perhaps he hadn't been pretending. Somehow she doubted that they had his full confidence even now. "Friends." Gar smiled, nodding eagerly.
"Can you remember someone striking you on the head?" the priestess asked.
Gar screwed up his face, rolling up his eyes with the effort of concentration, then shook his head. "Total amnesia, then," the priest said.
The priestess nodded, still looking at Gar. "Can you remember going to sleep tonight?"
Gar nodded like a puppy wanting to please. "Do you remember trading with the villagers?" Again, Gar screwed up his face in concentration. After a minute, he nodded, but with much less certainty.
"Do you remember waking up yesterday morning?"
Again the screwed up face, but this time, Gar shook his head sadly.
"Quite a bit of damage indeed." The priestess slipped the chain that held her medallion over her head and held it out, the glittering medal swinging like a pendulum. "Is not my jewelry pretty?"
"Pretty" Gar agreed, his eyes glued to the silvery object. He braced himself to resist hypnosis. "Follow it with your eyes." The priestess moved it to her right; Gar's eyes followed. "Now the other way." The bauble moved to the left; still Gar's eyes followed. "Up ... down ... He has no difficulty tracking."
"We can hope it is
only his recall that is impaired," the priest said. "Given time, the brain should find a way to access the memories from another site."
"Let us see if we can hasten the process." The priestess twitched her fingers and the medallion began to swing like a pendulum again. "Watch the medallion, Gar ... see how it swings ... to the left ... to the right. . ."
Gar followed the pendulum intently, even turning his head a little.
Alea thought he was overdoing it.
The priest yawned, and the priestess said, "How very late it is ... I am so sleepy ... It would be sweet to sleep ... sleep ... you are sleepy too, Gar ... so sleepy ... your eyelids are so heavy you can scarcely keep them open ... sleep ... sleep..." She lowered the medallion.
Gar kept his head turning from side to side.
The priestess smiled. "You may hold your head still, Gar."
Gar gazed straight forward, letting his eyes lose focus.
"What is your name?" the priestess asked. "Gar," he said, like a sleepwalker.
"What is your last name?"
"Last ... ?" Gar risked a little frown even though he was supposed to be entranced.
Alea sighed with relief. The hypnotism hadn't worked, but he was quick to pretend it had.
"No last name," the priest said. "Only a peasant, it would seem."
"Who gave you your name, Gar?"
"Priest," Gar muttered thickly.
"A priest? Good, that's progress.... Who told the priest what name to give?"
"Mama," Gar said. "Papa. . ."
"What did your mother look like, Gar?"
"Big," Gar said. "Huge; like tree. Red hair, green eyes ... smile. . ."
"He's seeing her as a baby would," the priest said. "That's very good," the priestess said to both him and Gar. "You're a little older now ... you're six ... do you have a brother?"
Gar nodded. "What's his name?"
"Geoffrey," Gar said, "and the baby."
Alea wondered if that was true or if Gar was making it up. He had never mentioned a brother. With a start, she realized he had never mentioned his family at all. She really didn't know a great deal about him, did she?
She felt a little angry about it. That would have to be remedied!
"Geoffrey is the baby?" the priestess asked. Gar shook his head.
"What's the baby's name?"
"Gregory." Gar's voice had deepened and his words weren't slurring as badly.
Alea still thought he was overdoing it. Would a brain-damaged man recover himself that quickly? "Very good," said the priestess. "Did you have a sister, too?"
Gar nodded.
"That would be Alea, of course," the priestess said. "Do you have only the one sister?"
"Only the one," Gar's voice was quite clear now. "I felt sorry for Mother sometimes."
"Vocabulary improved," the priest said, surprised. "He seems to have acquired a cultured accent."
"Yes, but not one I have ever heard." The priestess frowned. "Where is your home, Gar?"
"Gone from me." Gar's face crumpled. "Not in this world."
"Trauma," the priest whispered. "The bandits must have annihilated his whole village."
Well, that was one way to look at it, Alea decided, though it might have been more accurate to say Gar had gone from his home, not the other way around.
Still, Gar hadn't actually lied. Could he help it if they misinterpreted the strict truth?
Of course he could, she thought, but admitted that under the circumstances, misleading them was probably the wiser course.
"He seems to have accessed another area of memory," the priest said, "and bypassed the damaged area."
The priestess nodded. "I thought he must be capable of something like that, since his sister said his memory comes and goes."
Ingenious improvisation, Alea, Gar thought. You're very quick.
Alea started. How had Gar known she was listening in? But come to think of it, what else would she be doing?
"Now, Gar." The priestess tensed,, frowning. "Where did you learn medicine?"
Even with so much rock and metal between them, Alea could feel her anxiety and that of her priest-companion. Their alarm was clear: that anyone but a priest or priestess should have advanced scientific knowledge.
"Medicine ... ?" Gar's face was blank.
The priestess studied him for a moment and Alea could feel her massive relief in the thought: He knows nothing about medicine, then. She tried another approach. "The operation you did for little Orgo. Where did you learn to perform a tracheotomy?"
"Surgery." Gar's face cleared. "I had to help a wise woman once-emergency, like Orgo's. I held the man still with his arms to his sides and watched closely while she made the cut; I knew I might need it to save a life someday."
"Only by watching?" the priestess pressed. "No one ever taught you to do it?"
Gar turned his head from side to side. "Only watched." Then, anxiously, "Did I do it correctly?" Priest and priestess both relaxed. The priestess smiled as she said, "Yes, Gar, you did it well-very well indeed; you saved Orgo's life." Then, to the priest, "He must be very intelligent when his mind is awake."
"Very good memory, too," the priest agreed.
"All right, now, Gar," the priestess said, "I'm going to wake you up." She coached him back to the present, brought him to a very light trance, then said, "When I clap my hands you'll be completely awake, but you won't remember anything of what we've said. Is that clear?"
"Clear," Gar muttered.
The priestess clapped her hands; Gar blinked, then looked around him as though wondering how he'd come to be there.
"Surely you remember coming down here with us," the priest cajoled.
"Coming ... down here?" Gar frowned intently, then nodded. "'Member."
"He's lost his memory again." The priestess sighed. "I had hoped he could hold on to it once the link was established."
"No doubt it will reestablish itself more often," the priest told her.
"Yes, we'll have done that much good, at least. Well, Gar, would you like some breakfast now?"
Half an hour later, Alea led her "brother" down the hillside. When they were several hundred yards from the temples, Alea said, "Well, you certainly had your chance to learn about the religion here. Anything interesting?"
"The underground chambers, for one," Gar said. "Metal walls and plastic chairs aren't exactly Neolithic, let alone sliding doors. Their ancestors became mound builders, covering the landing craft with dirt and calling them hills, then building the temples on top."
Alea nodded. "Did you read the minds of the priest and priestess who were taking care of Orgo?"
"No, I was a little preoccupied," Gar confessed. "What did they do?"
"Took him deep underground to a room where there was one of those X-ray machines Herkimer told me about," Alea said, "though maybe it was a sonograph or a CAT scanner."
"Something that let them look inside the boy, anyway."
Alea nodded. "They found his throat was clogged with mucus and said they'd give him one of those pills you told me about, the kind that kill germs. You know, I hadn't thought germs were real, just something Herkimer made up, but those priests couldn't have talked with him."
"No, though I wouldn't be surprised if they had a computer with a database like his," Gar said, `just a much older version." He smiled. "Well, it may not be terribly Neolithic, but it does fit the priestly role of healer.
"Yes, it does." When she'd learned they were going to visit a Neolithic society Alea had studied everything about them that Herkimer had on file.
"That's why the temple isn't in the village-each ship has to care for a whole district."
"But the original colonists had a problem," Gar said. "They wanted to make modern medicine available to their descendants, but they didn't want to contaminate their brand-new Neolithic civilization with modern machinery and the industrial civilization that would go with it."
"So they passed the knowledge down through the clergy," Alea
said. "I'll bet they don't teach the priests and priestesses about the machines until they've taken their final vows and committed themselves completely to the temples."
"And one of those vows is an oath not to talk about anything modern with anybody who isn't a priest." Gar smiled, amused. "No wonder they went into a panic when I performed a tracheotomy!"
"Well, I wouldn't call it a panic," Alea demurred. "I do think they're aware that this knowledge gives them power and status, though. They don't want to lose that, so they're very worried if someone else has their knowledge:"
"Especially if that someone is a common peasant," Gar said with a sardonic smile. "Still, I think they're at least as worried about protecting their society from the modern world as they are about keeping their position. I wonder how their ancestors managed to pass on their fear of contamination?"
"Probably through stories," Alea said. "I'd love to hear their myths." She remembered how she and Gar had made up tales that were even now helping change her home world.
"Good thought." Gar nodded. "I wonder how many other advanced techniques the clergy are using, disguised as religious rituals."
Alea frowned. "Why would there be any need for anything but healing to be modern?"
"Because with advanced medical services," Gar said, "people live longer, and the population growsespecially when women live until menopause and after; they can bear more children."
Alea frowned. "Who says they have to?"
"Their societies, usually," Gar said, "even their religions-or they did, in the Neolithic era. With short life spans and a lot of babies dying at birth or soon after, they needed to keep the birth rate up so the tribe wouldn't die off. We don't have any evidence that they thought about birth control-but these people must, or there would be too many of them and not enough food."
"More people makes for more hands to do the work," Alea argued. "They could have all the babies they want if they grow more food!"
"Not enough more," Gar said, "unless they used modern farming techniques like crop rotation and spreading fertilizer. I'll bet you the priests and priestesses do both under the guise of ritual."
Alea eyed him warily. "What's the stake?"
A Wizard and a Warlord Page 8
