When D’ol Falla fell asleep, the night was already half spent; but Raamo himself was still awake. He was, in fact, sitting in the common room of a small nid-place in the farheights of Stargrund, listening to the soft song of the rain and the sound of many voices.
A few hours before, after his meeting with Hiro, Raamo had been about to return to his own chamber when Eudic had again appeared in the doorway.
“There is a Kindar woman at the palace gate,” he told Raamo. “She is asking to speak to you. I told her it was very late, but she insisted that I ask if you would see her.”
“I will see her,” Raamo had said, and a moment later Eudic returned and ushered in a large woman with a broad face and a keen and purposeful gaze.
“I am Fanya,” she said. “Fanya D’onne. I am messenger for the fourth fellowship of the Ny-zhaan, and I have been sent to ask if you will attend our meeting. It is a special meeting called to discuss the abduction of the children, and it is, even now, in progress.”
The woman offered her palms in greeting, and with palm- and eye-touch Raamo could pense no blocking, nor any hidden purposes, and so he agreed to go with her. On the way to the farheights, Fanya told him more concerning herself and the group of people that belonged to the fourth fellowship.
“I serve at the academy as a teacher of lute and song-form,” she told him. “And my bond-partner, Terin, serves as a recorder in the hall of public records. Several of the other Kindar members of our fellowship serve at the academy or in one of the Gardens. And many of our Erdling members are also teachers. Some of them serve in the new Erdling Gardens in Orbora, but a few go daily all the way to the old academy in Erda. We also have some members who are craftspeople, and a few are harvesters.”
“Are there many Ny-zhaan?” Raamo asked.
“Not many. There are perhaps a dozen fellowships in Orbora, and most of them are very small. Ours is one of the largest, and our meetings are usually attended by no more than twenty; but there may be a larger number tonight. Our newsinger said that several people approached him today while he was announcing the meeting and asked if they might attend.”
“I know very little about the fellowship,” Raamo said. “What rituals do you follow and what are your purposes?”
“We have no rituals but the Oath of Nesh-om,” Fanya told him, “and our purpose is only to talk and listen.”
“Are your meetings often in the farheights?” Raamo asked. They were, at the time, climbing a narrow swaying ladder. Raamo’s shuba was heavy with rain, and the strands of the ladder were slippery beneath his hands and feet.
“Quite often,” Fanya said. “Since our Erdling members live in the farheights, and our meetings are held in the nid-places of members. Tonight we are meeting in the home of an Erdling member.”
The common room of the nid-place was already full of people when Raamo and Fanya arrived. The air was heavy with body heat and the smell of rain-wet hair and shuba silk. At the appearance of the newcomers, everyone moved even closer together, until enough room was cleared for two more to sit down on the frond-woven floor. There were more than thirty people in the small room.
A man rose and began to speak. His broad shoulders and shaggy hair as well as the slow floating tones of his vowels immediately proclaimed him to be Erdling.
“I think we are all here now,” he said. “Let us sing the oath.”
It seemed strange to Raamo to hear the familiar words sung by Erdling voices. “Let us now swear, by our gratitude for this fair new land, that here, under this green and gentle sky, no man shall lift his hand to any other, except to offer Love and Joy.” Strange, but at the same time compelling, as if the newness was also in the meaning, making the words more than just oft-heard, familiar sounds.
After the oath, cups of juice and mead were passed, and the talking began. People talked to those sitting near them, and now and then someone stood and spoke briefly to the whole group. Tonight much of the talk concerned the disappearance of the children and the strange silence that had settled over the city. Some thought the children had probably been kidnapped by the Nekom, while others felt that it was just as likely that a disgruntled ex-member of the Geets-kel had been responsible. A young man sitting near Raamo told him that he had been asked to attend the meeting because some of the members thought he might be able to help them understand what had happened—the disappearance and the silence. There was great concern among the members, the young man said, about the strange silence.
“Would you speak to us about the silence?” he asked Raamo.
Immediately there was a hush, and all eyes turned towards Raamo. Feeling frightened and uncertain, Raamo knew they were expecting a foretelling or at least great wisdom, and he felt incapable of either.
“I don’t know,” he stammered. “I do not understand the silence either. I have only felt that it is like listening— as if everyone is listening.”
Around the room there were nods and murmurs, and an exchange of whispered comments, as if he had said something of great import. And suddenly he was speaking again, and this time it was as if the words came to him slowly from a great distance.
“The quiet began in fear—because of suddenly losing the hope that there would be another miracle—that a miracle would come to save us. But then when everything had stopped and there was quiet, there began to be listening. I don’t know yet what it means. But I think it is good because one can stand apart and hope for miracles, but to listen one must go out among the others.”
The murmur of comment began again and lasted for some time, and then Fanya D’onne stood and spoke to the people of the fellowship. “It is very late,” she said. “The first rain is over and I think we should all return now to our nid-places while the moons are shining.”
Fanya was standing near the doorway; and when she ceased speaking, she pulled back the doorhangings. As she did so, something moved in the darkness of the entryway. Holding up a honey lamp, Fanya revealed the figure of an old man who had been sitting on the floor of the entryway and was now struggling stiffly to his feet.
“Greetings friend,” Fanya said. “Come forward where you can be seen and welcomed into our fellowship.”
Cringing like a frightened sima, the old man backed away, but Fanya reached out and, taking his arm, she firmly encouraged him to step into the light of the common room. Under the soft light from the honey lamps, the stranger’s pale eyes blinked and his small mouth twisted nervously.
“I heard the newsinger ... he stammered,” ... about your meeting. I—I thought I might want to join. ...
“You should have made your presence known,” someone said, “instead of staying outside in the darkness.”
“I was afraid,” the old man said. “I was afraid I might not be welcome.”
“All are welcome,” Fanya said. “What is your name, that we might have it stitched on our list of members?”
She had released the old man’s arm, and he once again started to back away. “My name is Quon,” he said, just before he disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
THREE DAYS HAD PASSED since Pomma and Terra had disappeared from their nid-chamber in the Vine Palace, and to a casual observer it might seem that life in Orbora had returned almost to normal. The silence had slowly dissipated, like a morning ground-mist, and people had resumed the former patterns of their lives. To all outward appearances, all was as it had been before. There were, however, small subtle differences.
“It’s as if we are all waiting,” Neric told a small group of listeners who had assembled in his youth hall nid-chamber. “As if everyone is content to sit quietly and wait for fate to catch up with all of us.”
“What would you have us do?” It was Sard Uld, the Erdling hall-dweller, who spoke.
“I don’t know exactly,” Neric said impatiently. “Perhaps patrols could be formed to keep watch at the borders of the city, or even to go out and search in the open forest.”
“To search for what?”
“For the community of the Nekom, of course,” Neric said.
“If there is such a community.”
“Surely you don’t really doubt it. Everyone is speaking of it.”
“I have heard of it,” Sard admitted. “But only that someone knows someone, who knows someone else, who has certain knowledge of it. Have any of you met anyone who has seen it himself, or who knows where it might be?”
There were shrugs from the six people in the room—Neric and Genaa; the two Erdlings, Sard and Mawno; plus two other hall-dwellers, a young Kindar woman of twenty-two, and a boy of sixteen.
“And if there is such a place and if your patrol should happen to find it—what then?”
“Why, then we would demand the return of the children.”
Sard smiled. “Very nice,” he said, “if it was Axon Befal and his followers who took the children—and if they would hand them over to you simply because you asked it.”
“What do you think the Nekom would do?” the young Kindar woman asked, her eyes widening with fascinated horror as she contemplated the possibilities. “What would they do if someone demanded the release of the children?”
Sard only shook his head, but Mawno, who had been lying across Neric’s nid on his stomach, raised his head and answered, grinning mockingly.
“Something unspeakable, no doubt. After all, they are Erdlings.”
“It’s nothing to joke about, Mawno,” Genaa said.
“She’s right,” Sard agreed. Seizing the edge of the nid, he jerked it upward, dumping Mawno out on the floor. “Pay no attention to my friend,” he said, smiling down at his fellow Erdling. “He is suffering from a common Erdling affliction known as plak-wit. He has eaten so many earth birds that his brain has begun to resemble a plak-hen’s.”
Scrambling to a squatting position, Mawno flopped around the floor, pantomiming the noisy hysteria of a startled plak; and even Neric joined in the laughter.
“It’s all very well to laugh,” Neric said when he was finally able to stop, “but this is no time for frivolity. If something is not done quickly, the time for laughter may soon be over for everyone. I don’t see why there has not been an emergency meeting of the Council.”
“My father is ill,” Genaa said. “He has not been able to call a meeting; and when D’ol Falla sent a messenger to Kir Oblan and Ruulba D’arsh to ask if they would preside jointly over a special Council, they sent back word that they would wait for Hiro D’anhk’s recovery.”
“I know,” Neric said, “and I am sorry about your father’s illness, but decisions must be made soon—either with him or without him. For the sake of the children and perhaps for all Green-sky.”
At that moment there was the sound of several voices from the hallway just outside Neric’s door. Going to investigate, Neric found Raamo talking to three young hall-dwellers.
“Raamo, come in,” Neric said. “And you also.”
Raamo entered, closely followed by the young Kindar, who a week earlier would certainly have avoided entering a chamber that held Erdlings as well as former Ol-zhaan. Neric wasn’t sure whether the difference was due to a real change or only to anxious curiosity.
Raamo was obviously greatly troubled.
“Your parents and Teera’s?” Genaa asked. “How are they?”
“They are in great mind-pain,” Raamo said. “They have slept little, and Kanna Eld weeps often and will not eat.”
There was a silence, and two or three of the young hall-dwellers extended their palms towards Raamo in the Kindar gesture of sympathy and pain-sharing.
“But I have been sent by D’ol Falla to speak with you about another matter. Another problem, a very serious problem, has arisen, and D’ol Falla feels that the Council must be informed of it. She tried to summon them to a special meeting, but they have refused to meet in the absence of the Chief Mediator. D’ol Falla has asked me to see if you, Neric and Genaa, could persuade the Councilors to attend a meeting this afternoon at the great hall.”
Neric was already on his feet. “I don’t know if the Councilors will listen to us, if they failed to heed the summons of D’ol Falla, but I will be only too glad to try. It will at least be better than doing nothing.”
“Perhaps I could help.” It was the young Kindar woman who spoke. “My father is Ruulba D’arsh, chief minister of the Kindar Councilors. He has not been himself since the news came of the abduction. He says that he, too, is ill, but I think it is mostly that he is depressed and discouraged. Perhaps if I talked to him, I could convince him that the Council must meet.”
So it was decided that Jurra D’arsh, with several other Kindar hall-dwellers, would go to speak to Ruulba D’arsh; and Sard and Mawno would be sent to Kir Oblan.
“I am not Kir’s son,” Sard said. “But I have met him, and I think I might be able to convince him. At least let me try first, Neric, before you bring the official summons. Then, if he agrees, Mawno and I can help in taking the message to the other Erdling Councilors.”
Thus it was agreed, and the three—Neric, Genaa and Raamo—were soon left alone in Neric’s chamber.
“What is it, Raamo?” Genaa asked. “What problem will D’ol Falla lay before the Council?”
So Raamo told them of the disappearance of the tool-of-violence from the secret hiding place in which it had lain since the day of the Rejoyning. And of the reasons why it had not been deactivated and why D’ol Falla had kept secret, until now, the fact that it still existed.
“Does she think it is Axon Befal who now has the weapon?” Neric asked.
“Perhaps, but perhaps not. The hiding place was skillfully made, so that there seemed to be no space for a hidden compartment. D’ol Falla thinks that it would not have been found except by someone who was searching—and knew that there was something for which to search. And there was only one other who knew that the tool-of-violence could never be destroyed.”
“Regle,” Neric said suddenly.
“Yes,” Raamo said. “She thinks that Regle must have had something to do with it.”
“But Regle hasn’t been seen or heard from since the day of the Rejoyning,” Genaa said. “Surely if he had entered the Temple Grove at any time, he would have been seen and recognized.”
“But he might not have come himself. It is possible that he has allied himself with others.”
“It hardly seems possible that he has joined with the Nekom. Axon Befal has sworn to destroy all who were once Geets-kel.”
“True,” Neric said, “but there are others who might have joined forces with the novice-master. There have been several Ol-zhaan who have disappeared since the Rejoyning, and not a few Kindar as well.”
“Then it might well be that it was not Axon at all who took the children, but the followers of Regle. They might have searched for the weapon and found it at the same time that the children were taken. If you remember, D’ol Falla was with us at the Council meeting at the time, and her chambers would have been empty.”
“Yes,” Raamo said. “That is what D’ol Falla thinks may have happened. She is very troubled.”
In a short time messengers arrived at the youth with the news that the efforts of Jurra D’arsh and the young Erdlings had been successful, and that most of the Councilors were prepared to meet at the great hall on the sixth hour. A messenger was sent on to the Vine Palace to inform D’ol Falla and the Eld bond-partners of the hour set for the meeting. For Raamo and Neric and Genaa, there was only time enough for a quick food-taking in the youth hall pantry before setting out for the assembly hall.
A short time later, just as they were leaving the youth hall, the young Kindar woman Jurra D’arsh appeared running towards them along the branchway. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide and strange.
“Come,” she cried. “Come. The newsinger—near Startrunk.”
Turning, she hurried back the way she had come; and when they tried to question her, she only shook her head and hurried faster.
“The newsinger,” w
as all she would say.
As they approached Startrunk, they could see that a crowd had gathered on the broad branchway near the platform of the newsinger. The newsinger, a young man with a round childish face, seemed to have just finished his message. He was standing silently staring at the crowd, and just as silently the crowd returned his stare.
“Again. Again please, newsinger,” Neric called.
For a moment the young man only looked blankly at Neric, as if unable to understand the meaning of his request. Then collecting himself with an obvious effort, he began to sing.
“A short time ago I was approached on this platform by a messenger who handed me this scroll.” He was chanting rapidly, making no effort to employ the skills of melody, rhythm, and rhyme for which the newsingers of Orbora were so much admired. “The messenger was not known to me, but by his appearance it would seem that he was Erdling. The scroll was tightly bound, and by the time I had opened it, the messenger had disappeared. The message of the scroll is as follows:”
Unfurling a wide grundleaf scroll he began to chant—his voice high and harsh with emotion.
“ ‘From the Great Leader Axon Befal, to all the people of Orbora. Be it known that I, Axon Befal, with the help of many, both Erdling and Kindar, who are secret members of the Nekom, have taken into custody the children Pomma D’ok and Teera Eld. The children are being held in the forest community of the Nekom, which is well hidden and guarded by many loyal Nekom who are equipped with sharp-edged wands-of-Befal. The children will not be returned to their parents and to the people of Orbora until all the members of the Joined Council have sworn allegiance to me, Axon Befal, and all who were once Geets-kel have been seized and imprisoned, including the woman known as D’ol Falla and the traitorous Verban, Hiro D’anhk. When this has been done, I will enter Orbora with a great multitude of my followers. The children will be restored to you and a new era will begin in Green-sky. An era of justice and order and peace and plenty for all who pledge loyalty to the leadership of the Nekom. If these things are not done in ten days time, the children will die.’ ”
Until the Celebration Page 12
