“Axon Befal,” he stammered. “Yes, yes, Axon Befal. What can I do for you, Great Leader?”
“We are holding a meeting here,” Axon said. “And we are hungry. We will have fried lapan. There will be—” He paused and looked at his two companions. “How many are coming?”
“Five, at least. Perhaps seven.”
“Enough lapan for eight. And hurry.”
The hearth-keeper burst into a flurry of activity. Scattering fresh coal on the hearth, he fanned it feverishly for several minutes and then disappeared into the back room at a trot. A moment later he returned carrying a platter of raw lapan. Within a few minutes a fresh cloud of greasy smoke billowed out from the hearth and the sound of sizzling fat filled the air.
The other Nekom arrived one by one, two more men and two women. They, like the earlier arrivals, were wearing shubas and carried, strapped to their bodies, long, sharp tools-of-violence, like the one worn by Axon Befal.
Except for muttered words of greeting, little was said until the lapan was served and eaten. At last, pushing back his empty plate, Axon leaned forward and began to speak. His voice was harsh and urgent, but low in volume, and its furtive, rasping tone blended with the rustle of raindrops in the rooffronds. In order to hear, his listeners were forced to lean far forward until their heads were almost touching over the table. Watching them, Dergg, a novice Nekom, was reminded of a huddle of scavenger beetles gathered around a tasty morsel of refuse on the forest floor.
It was clear to the hearth-keeper that, as a new recruit, he was not going to be asked to take part in the conference. But it was not clear to him whether or not he would be allowed to listen. Fearing that he would not if the matter were drawn to the attention of the members of the huddled conference, he crept as close as he dared and crouched down on the muddy floor.
He did not hear all that was said, but what he did hear filled him with a strange mixture of emotions—a bewildering blend of feverish exhilaration, fierce pride, and anxious confusion.
Dergg Ursh had not been a Nekom for long, and the belonging was still new and exciting. As a child in Erda, he had several times heard the Nekom leader speak, and he had always been excited and intrigued by the loud and stirring words. But not until he came to Upper Erda had he begun to listen in earnest. When, alone and lonely in the new surface city, he had been approached by the Nekom recruiters, he had been flattered and greatly impressed. And he had begun to listen very carefully to all the things that they told him.
It had all begun to seem very right. It was true that the Ol-zhaan, particularly those who had once been Geets-kel, had cruelly and unjustly kept the Erdlings imprisoned below the Root. And it did seem only fair that someone should be punished for so great an offense—that someone else should be forced to suffer as the Erdling had suffered for so many generations. It also seemed unfair, as Dergg had heard Axon Befal himself say, that the new Erdling immigrants were being assigned to the smallest and most simply built nid-places in the mid- and farheights of the city, rather than to the large and beautiful nid-places of the lower levels. And it seemed quite likely that, as Axon claimed, the Rejoyning had become no more than another plot against the Erdlings, and that their Councilors, Kir Oblan and the others, had allowed themselves to be duped and deceived by the Kindar Councilors, who were secretly still under the control of the Ol-zhaan. But, in the future, things would be very different.
The future, as Axon Befal described it, seemed to Dergg Ursh to be full of excitement, adventure, and glory. Axon Befal would overcome the Joined Council with its cringing Erdling and treacherous Kindar leaders, and he and his closest followers would move into the great palaces and temples of the beautiful Temple Grove. From there, they would direct the destiny of all Green-sky, righting old wrongs and leading all who would follow, Erdling and Kindar alike, into a beautiful new era of happiness and plenty. And all those who had been loyal to Axon in these early days of trial and danger would be rewarded with privilege and honor and would be loved and respected by all the people.
Of course, it would take some time for these great changes to be brought about, and in the meantime there was much to do. In a secret hiding place in the open forest, Axon was gathering and training a large group of new recruits. It was necessary for all Nekom to learn how to climb and glide as well or better than any Kindar, and to make use of the long, sharp instrument that was called a wand-of-Befal. The wand-of-Befal would, Axon said, eventually be carried by every Erdling fortunate enough to be accepted into the society of the Nekom. Dergg looked forward eagerly to the time when he, too, would wear a wand-of-Befal and march proudly with the other Nekom up and down the great branchways of Orbora, before all the cheering people. But for the moment Dergg was a secret Nekom, and as such he was not allowed to wear a wand.
A secret Nekom was, however, a person of great importance. There were, Dergg had been told, many others besides himself. Scattered throughout the surface cities, back in Erda, and even among the immigrants in the heights, they were all engaged in carrying out duties that were absolutely essential to the glorious future of the new Green-sky.
There were secret members among the craftsmen who still worked in the caves of Erda, whose duty it was to fashion the wands-of-Befal from Erdling steel. There were others who lived with their families in Orbora and were thus able to acquire shubas for all the members. And there were many who, in various ways, contributed to the support of the forest community of full-time Nekom. Some allowed their nid-places to be used as occasional hiding places; others helped to obtain and transport food; and yet others worked as recruiters in their own neighborhoods and places of service. Dergg’s assignment up to the present time had been to make food and shelter available to occasional groups of Nekom during the hours of rain and darkness. This he had been able to accomplish easily, simply by staying on as watchman after the old man who owned the lapan-house had gone home to his nid-place. So Dergg had been able to be of service to his fellow Nekom while he was, at the same time, earning the extra tokens that the old man was glad to pay to have his lapan-house guarded during the hours of darkness.
Dergg felt that he was fortunate indeed, and particularly fortunate tonight, when the Great Leader himself honored the lapan-house with his presence. Leaning far to one side, straining until his ears ached from the effort, Dergg tried desperately to hear and understand every syllable of the message that Axon Befal was imparting to his followers. His words were certain to be of great importance, full of wisdom and power.
But Axon Befal was still speaking too softly for Dergg to make out exactly what he was saying. His tone, however, was abrupt and full of tension, and he seemed to be reprimanding one of the Nekom officers who sat with him at the table. Dergg shivered, glad that the Great Leader’s harshness was not directed at himself. But now, occasional words and phrases became clear, and it seemed that Axon was scolding one whose task it was to train the Nekom in the skill of gliding. Suddenly, Axon Befal’s voice rose, almost to a mighty roar.
“Twice now we have failed,” he was saying. “And each time we have failed because the Kindar were more agile and possessed greater skill at gliding. First we allowed the old man to escape from beneath the very edges of our wands, and now we have allowed one of the most dangerous and powerful of all the Ol-zhaan to elude us.
Then one of the others spoke. “Your pardon, Great Leader, but I don’t understand why—”
But at that point the speaker turned his head and his voice fell, so that the rest of what he said was swallowed in the rustle of the rain on the rooffronds.
But Axon’s voice was still lifted, and Dergg clearly heard his reply. “You are right in part,” he said. “It is true that his name is not on our list—not yet. And we were not expecting him. Our watcher told us that the woman Geets-kel known as Birta often uses the branchpath we were guarding. It was she whom we were awaiting. But he would have been an even greater prize. Is he not a member of the corrupt Council? And during the hearing against us, he ha
rdened the hearts of the Councilors against our cause. True, he said but little, but that one does not need to speak to influence the people. Don’t you remember, Harff, how he stared at us? He has great power over the people, both Erdling and Kindar. And do you imagine that, once we have come to power, he would not try to turn the people against us? No, it would have been no mistake if we had taken Raamo.”
At that moment Dergg Ursh lost his balance and sat down suddenly on the muddy floor of the lapan-house. Glancing his way, Axon Befal frowned and gestured for him to approach.
“Get us some more pan-mead, boy,” he said. “We are thirsty.”
In the supply room behind the hearth, Dergg Ursh filled his pitcher from the barrel of musty mead and started to leave the room, but suddenly he stopped and leaned against the wall. His hands were shaking, and his head felt large and painful with confusion.
Had the leader really meant that there had been an attack on Raamo? It seemed impossible. Dergg had taken a special interest in the young Councilor since the first days of the Rejoyning. For one thing, they were almost the same age. And then, in the third or fourth month of the Rejoyning, he had actually seen Raamo, when a group of Councilors had come to speak to the people of Upper Erda. Struggling through the crowd, Dergg had found himself suddenly face to face with Raamo; and as he looked into the clear, deep eyes of the young Rejoyner, he had been stirred and shaken by a strong feeling. He did not know what the feeling meant, but it had been strong and warm and unforgettable. Surely, Axon Befal had not meant what he had seemed to be saying. Surely he had only misunderstood.
Taking a deep breath, Dergg shook his head hard to clear it of the dark confusion, which had, for a moment, almost overwhelmed him, and hurried back into the main chamber of the lapan-house.
As he poured the mead, he listened carefully, but they were no longer speaking of Raamo. Instead, Axon Befal was telling his officers of a great new plan that he had recently conceived, a plan that would greatly hasten the day when the Nekom would be welcomed into Orbora and honored by all the people of Green-sky.
Dergg would have liked to hear more about the new plan, but this time, when he squatted down to listen, Axon Befal glanced up and ordered him from the room.
Chapter Ten
THE DAY WAS ALMOST over. It was a day of full service in the month of two moons, almost ten months after the beginning of the time of the Rejoyning. In the great orchard of Orbora the harvesters, laden with full packs of produce, were leaving the trees—carrying heavy, hard-shelled braazer nuts, fruits of many varieties, and the great full-bodied pan-fruit so indispensable to every Kindar food-taking.
At the sound of the foreman’s signal flute, many of the harvesters began the upward climb to the connecting ramps and branchways that led back to the storage halls and robing rooms of Orchardgrund, just as generations of harvesters had done before them. But now, there was also another route and another destination.
Now, at the sound of the flute, a goodly number of the heavily laden workers started to make their way downward by means of newly constructed hanging stairways that led down to the earth below. Too weighed down by their heavy packs to attempt to glide, they climbed slowly and carefully until they reached the orchard floor. Once there, they joined a procession of their fellow workers that wound its way to a number of long, low storage halls near the edge of the grund forest. There they deposited the produce that would be picked up later by Erdling carriers and transported to one of the surface cities or, perhaps, down to the caverns of Erda. These harvesters, whose job it was to supply the Erdlings who had not yet immigrated to the heights, were nearly all very young. The reason for this lay in the persistence of old fears. Veteran harvesters were not really frightened. They knew now that the terrible stories of the Pash-shan had not been true. Yet even to look at the forest floor still caused them a deep, unreasoned discomfort. So they were allowed to continue in the old ways, while the younger harvesters supplied the new Erdling storage halls.
On this particular day, as the harvesters moved out of the orchards, they were being watched by a small group hidden among the leaf-grown endbranches of a large forest grund. When the great orchard was finally deserted, the band of watchers moved out onto an open branchway. They were five in number, and one of them was wearing a shuba which, although frayed and soiled, had obviously once been white. Ten months after the abolishment of every distinction that had set the Ol-zhaan apart from their fellow Kindar, the young man who was leading the furtive advance out into the open orchard was dressed in the white shuba and the green-gold seal of the Ol-zhaan.
“All right,” he said suddenly, turning back to his followers. “Quickly now. Little enough time remains before the rains. Tarn, you and Pino take the pan grove. You, Wuul, try the nut trees, and Corro, see what has been left in the fruit rows. But be sure to leave the orchard at the first drops of rain and return to the outpost. I will meet you there, and we will wait until daybreak to return to Wissen-wald.”
Stepping to the edge of the high grundbranch, the Kindar workers launched themselves into space, their empty packs flapping behind them. For a moment, the young Ol-zhaan stood watching, and then moving purposefully and hastily, he began to make his way around the orchard in the direction of Orbora. The forest was dense here, with leafy endbranch thickets and heavy curtains of Vine making gliding impossible. So the traveler made his way on foot, trotting down narrow branches and scrambling through dense thickets of endgrowth. When he reached the outskirts of the city, he began to move slowly and carefully. At last he stopped and, looking carefully all around, pushed his way into a large thicket that concealed a tiny, crudely built chamber constructed of frond and woven tendril.
Except for a sagging overgrown nid, a lopsided tendril table, and a short-legged bench, the chamber was empty. It was obviously the work of children, built long ago as a secret meeting place and, apparently, now forgotten and deserted. It was, however, isolated and well hidden, qualities that made it well suited to the purposes of the young man. Seating himself on the bench, the youth settled himself to wait and rest—but he did not relax his guard or allow his vigilance to diminish. He was, after all, D’ol Salaat, holy Ol-zhaan and loyal disciple of the great D’ol Regle, on a mission of great peril and awesome responsibility.
D’ol Salaat was now an outcast, living in exile in the secret community of Wissen-wald, a day’s journey to the northeast of Orbora. It was not an easy life nor, at the moment, a richly rewarding one, in terms of honor and glory. But he had faith in the inspired teachings of the glorious D’ol Wissen, in the time-tested traditions and institutions, and, most of all, in the strength and wisdom of the noble D’ol Regle.
Thus musing, D’ol Salaat had, perhaps, allowed his vigilance to relax for the merest fraction of a second, because he was suddenly aware that two persons had entered the tiny chamber and were now standing directly before him. Springing to his feet in some confusion, D’ol Salaat immediately composed himself and demanded that the newcomers recite the password and oath of allegiance to the Great Perpetuator, D’ol Regle—an oath composed some weeks before by D’ol Salaat himself. The newcomers were well known to him, Kindar who had for some time been in the service of the exiles. However, the oath and the password were a part of the new ritual for loyal Kindar and were therefore not to be neglected. When the rituals were properly completed, D’ol Salaat wasted no time in getting to the matter at hand.
“Greetings, loyal Kindar,” he said, taking care to smile with gracious benevolence so that the humble Kindar might not be overwhelmed at his presence. “What news do you bring me concerning the missions that you have been given to perform? You, Quon, what luck have you had in recruiting Kindar workmen?”
Quon, a pale-eyed old man with a small nervous mouth, stared at D’ol Salaat as if in consternation for some moments before he spoke. At last he stammered, “No—not—I’m afraid ... not a great deal, Honored One. I have found four, perhaps five, who would be willing to join the community, I am s
ure. They speak openly of their unjoyfulness at having to live and work with Erdlings and their fear for the future of Orbora under the Rejoyners. But they are older men and for the most part unskilled in the use of the metal tools of the Erdlings. Is it absolutely necessary that the recruits be those who are assigned to the use of the fire-cursed instruments of the Erdlings?”
D’ol Salaat sighed loudly, but with great patience. “I have explained the need to you before,” he said. “It will be necessary for the community to establish its own orchards as quickly as possible, so that we may have an independent food supply. And in order to do so, we must quickly clear away the forest so that produce trees can be planted. For this we must have metal tools, and workmen who can use them.”
The old man nodded, but weakly and without conviction. “But would it not be better for the Ol-zhaan to clear the forest by means of grunspreking, as was done when the great orchards of Orbora were planted in the early days? Cannot the Ol-zhaan deaden the grunds and rooftrees by means of grunspreking—as was done by the blessed D’ol Wissen?”
D’ol Salaat sighed again and more loudly. “Of course, the Ol-zhaan can still clear the trees by means of grunspreking. But—you see—we do not have time to wait for the trees to disintegrate after they have been deadened through grunspreking. Therefore we must make use of the Erdling tools. Certainly some of the Kindar workers must be adept in their use by now.”
“Oh yes, Honored One. Some of the workmen in my own guild use Erdling tools daily now—with no fear at all. But they are, for the most part, in sympathy with the Rejoyners. I have heard some of them speak ... The old man paused, and his eyes fell in embarrassed confusion.
“Yes, yes,” D’ol Salaat urged. “You have heard them speak of what?”
With his eyes still averted and his voice trembling, Quon continued, “I have heard them speak with great harshness concerning D’ol Regle. They feel great unjoyfulness towards D’ol Regle concerning the tool-of-violence and the holy ... the two children. I think it would not be wise to speak to them of Wissen-wald and of D’ol Regle.”
Until the Celebration Page 8
