“The children. The holy children,” a voice cried, an Erdling voice lifted in the wild wailing chant of the Ceremony of Weeping. One by one other voices took up the cry, Kindar voices as well as Erdling. On the platform the young newsinger joined in the wailing, his round face wet and contorted.
Too stunned by what she had heard to think clearly, Genaa did not at once think of Raamo, who had been standing just beside her. And when she did, he was no longer there. Already some distance away, Raamo was on his way to the Vine Palace. As soon as he realized what the newsinger was saying, one thought possessed his mind— that he must reach the palace before word of Axon Befal’s message arrived there. Although he knew there would be little he could say to comfort his parents, he felt that he must reach them before they heard of Axon’s threat.
Running and climbing feverishly, he reached the rampway that led to the Temple Grove in a state of near exhaustion. At the end of the rampway he stopped suddenly to ease his breathing and, as he did so, he became aware of the sound of footsteps behind him. The footsteps paused when he did, and then came on more slowly. Whirling, Raamo found himself face-to-face with an old man.
Raamo backed away fearfully, trying to center his mind enough to pense the man’s intentions. He was only partially successful but, as the man’s eyes met his, he momentarily sensed fear and a wild desperation—yet it was not the senseless ragings that had reached him that day in the midheights when he had almost been waylaid by the Nekom. As his own fear subsided, he suddenly realized that the thin pale-eyed face was vaguely familiar.
“I have seen you before,” he said. “Somewhere—not long ago.”
The old man opened his mouth as if to speak, but his lips trembled violently and for a moment no sound emerged.
“Yes, Honored One,” he breathed finally in a voice so tremorous that Raamo had to lean forward in order to hear. “You saw me in the entryway of the Erdling nid-place—three days hence. I am Quon.”
“Greetings Quon,” Raamo said, offering his palms.
But the old man cringed away from him. “No, no,” he said. “I am undeserving. I wish only to speak to you. I have been following you for three days—trying to find you alone so that I could speak to you in secret. I must speak to you, D’ol Raamo.”
Raamo hesitated. “I am on my way to the Vine Palace. I must hurry.”
“I must speak to you. I must. You must tell me what I should do.”
“Would you come with me then? To the Vine Palace?”
Again the old man cringed away fearfully. “No, no. I can’t. There is one there who must not see me. I will wait for you here. I have a hiding place, there, just off the rampway. There among the grundleaves. Will you return, D’ol Raamo, as soon as possible?”
“I will,” Raamo promised. “Watch for me. I will return very soon.”
“Please. Please do, D’ol Raamo. It is of great importance. It concerns—” Quon paused, glancing around fearfully, and then continued in a quavering voice. “It concerns the tool-of-violence.”
Raamo halted, torn with indecision, but there was really no choice. “I must go on, now,” he said. “But I promise that I will return within the hour. Do you promise to wait for me?”
“I promise,” Quon said. “I will wait. You won’t tell anyone will you? You won’t tell anyone about seeing me?”
“I will tell no one,” Raamo said.
Chapter Sixteen
WHEN RAAMO REACHED THE Vine Palace, he found his parents together with Kanna and Herd Eld in the common room of D’ol Falla’s chambers. The moment Eudic ushered him into the room, grief and fear closed in around him like a dark shroud. D’ol Falla, seated in a high-backed tendril chair, looked as faded and fragile as a dried flower, and the others seemed also to be strangely changed, shriveled and closed by grief and mind-pain. D’ol Falla had been speaking, but as Raamo entered she turned to him, offering her palms.
“Greetings Raamo,” D’ol Falla said, but there was no Joy in the greeting. Eudic hovered, obviously concerned for D’ol Falla’s welfare. “You may go now, Eudic,” she said; and when he had disappeared, she turned to Raamo. “We have just been speaking of the disappearance of the tool-of-violence. Were Neric and Genaa able to convince the Council that there must be a meeting?”
“A meeting?” For a brief moment Raamo had almost forgotten. “Yes, yes. The meeting. They were successful. The meeting will begin soon, at the sixth hour. A messenger was sent to tell you. She will arrive soon. But there is something that I must speak of first.”
He paused. The messenger had, no doubt, stopped, too, to hear the announcement of the newsinger—and she would be arriving soon with more news than she had been told to bring. Yet it was he who must tell of the new disaster, and not she. Steeling himself to bear the sharing of pain, Raamo spoke as calmly as he could of Axon Befal’s message. He told of the demands made and the promises, but he did not repeat, in exact words, the direct threat against the children’s lives.
“Axon Befal said that the Nekom have taken Pomma and Teera and that they will be returned when his demands are met,” he said.
There was a long silence broken only by the aching sounds of Kanna’s sobs. It was Hearba who spoke first.
“I cannot believe they would harm them,” she said in a thin, childish voice. “The Erdlings joy in children as much, or more, than do the Kindar. I will not believe that they could harm them.”
Raamo took his mother’s hands. “You are right,” he said. “We must not believe all that Axon Befal has said. I do not believe him.”
“What is it that you don’t believe?” D’ol Falla asked, but Raamo did not answer immediately. At last he started and turned toward D’ol Falla. “I—I don’t know,” he said. “But I know that we must not believe him.”
“Did Axon Befal make any mention of the tool-of-violence in his message?” Herd Eld asked.
“No,” Raamo said. “He said nothing about it. Nothing at all.” The mention of the weapon caused Raamo’s mind to return to the old man Quon, but at that moment an interruption occurred. Eudic appeared again in the doorway, and with him the messenger who had been sent to announce the meeting of the Joined Council. She was pale and shaken.
“I have told them,” Raamo said quickly. “I have already told them about the message from Axon Befal.”
Clearly relieved that she did not have to be the bearer of such news, the young woman gave D’ol Falla a scroll on which was written the announcement of the meeting of the Council, and then departed. When she was gone, D’ol Falla spoke to Herd Eld.
“It is obvious that Kanna cannot be expected to attend the meeting, and I think it would be best if you stayed here with her. And since I have already told you what I have to impart to the Council, there is no need for you to be present. Raamo, will you go to the meeting or stay here with your parents?”
“I will come to the Council,” Raamo said, “but not at once. Will it be all right if I arrive later? Will you tell the members that I will be there very soon?”
D’ol Falla looked at him searchingly for a moment, but she did not question him. It seemed to Raamo that she knew, perhaps pensed, something of his purpose.
“Yes,” she said. “I will tell the Council. Will you call Eudic back? I will ask him to escort me to the assembly hall.”
A few minutes later Raamo was again on the rampway between Stargrund and the Temple Grove. He walked slowly waiting for Quon to show himself, and was perhaps halfway down when he pensed, and then heard, a summons. Climbing over the tendril network that bordered the rampway, he scrambled through grundtwigs toward a thick clump of leaf and Vine. A moment later he was again face-to-face with the old man, Quon.
The telling did not go swiftly. Having determined to tell his story to the Spirit-gifted young Ol-zhaan, Quon was equally determined that it should be told well, with no detail forgotten that might help to explain his behavior.
“I have always been a good and loyal Kindar, Honored One,” he began. “I am
a craftsman, a humble worker in wood and tendril. Almost a year ago, on the day that is now called the Rejoyning, I had been assigned to work on the rebuilding of a broken tendril screen in the palace of the novice-master, D’ol Regle. There, I had come to know well a Kindar serving man called Tam D’ald. On that day, while I was working, Tarn came to me suddenly, greatly excited, and said that I was to receive a great honor. I had been among those chosen to accompany the novice-master into the forest on a mission of great importance. I was told to wait in a storage room—other Kindar serving people arrived, four in all—and then the two Ol-zhaan, D’ol Regle and a young novice, D’ol Salaat. We, all the Kindar, that is, were given many portage baskets to carry, and we began a long journey into the depths of the forest. When the journey was over, we had come to Wissen-wald.”
“Wissen-wald?” Raamo asked.
“The new community founded by D’ol Regle. I stayed in Wissen-wald many days, helping to build nid-places and reservoirs. But then, several months ago, it was decided that I should return to Orbora to serve as a recruiter. I was told to go back to my old nid-place in the guild home, and to my place of service at the guild of builders. I was to say that I had been lost in the forest.”
“It would seem odd that such a story would be believed. Why didn’t your family report you missing?”
“I have no family, Honored One. I was bonded once, when I was young, but we were not blessed with children and we decided to break our bond and return to hall living. So there was no one to grieve at my absence. And there was so much that was strange in Orbora—so many other things to trouble about—no one seemed to have the time to question my story. So I lived again in Orbora and worked for my old guild, but while I worked I was always to talk to people—about the Erdlings and about the old days and of D’ol Regle. And when I found others who longed for a return to the safety of the days before the Rejoyning, I took them to a secret meeting place in the forest to talk to D’ol Salaat, or one of the other Ol-zhaan; and if they were found worthy, they were taken to Wissen-wald.”
“But the tool-of-violence?” Raamo asked. “You said you wished to speak to me about the tool-of-violence.”
“Yes, yes, D’ol Raamo. I am coming to that.”
“And Quon, you should not call me D’ol.”
“I know, I know, D’ol ... I mean Raamo. But it is hard for me to remember.”
“I understand,” Raamo said smiling. “And now, about the tool-of-violence?”
“Yes, the tool-of-violence. What I wished to say was that there are others in Orbora besides myself, perhaps many others, who are secret members of the community and who are here on many missions. There is one whom I have met—who has reported to D’ol Salaat with me— who serves in the Vine Palace and whose mission it is to find the tool-of-violence and bring it to D’ol Salaat.”
Raamo stared at Quon in horror. He knew all the serving people of the palace well, and there were none whom—but then, suddenly, he knew. There was one who mind-blocked very carefully in his presence. He had, at times, wondered about it. “Maala?” he asked. “Maala D’ach?”
“Yes, yes, Maala.”
“Has the tool-of-violence been taken to Wissen-wald?”
“To Wissen-wald? I don’t think so. She has not found it yet. At least she hadn’t found it a week ago when we last spoke to D’ol Salaat in the meeting place. D’ol Salaat was very unjoyful because it had not yet been found.”
“But it is gone now,” Raamo said. “Someone found it and took it away from where it had been kept, since the day of Rejoyning.”
The old man closed his eyes and let his head fall forward upon his chest. When he raised it again, his pale eyes seemed to have faded even more—as bleached and lifeless as the eyes of one far gone in wasting.
“Then I am too late,” he said. “He will kill them this time, for certain.”
“Them? Who, Quon?”
“The children. The holy children.”
“Do you think that Regle has the children, then? Was it his people who took them from the palace?”
“Yes, I am certain of it. He has taken them as he did before, that he might use them to force his will upon the people of Orbora.”
“Have you heard the newsingers, today?” Raamo asked. “Haven’t you heard of the message given today to the Startrunk newsinger?”
“No, I have heard no messages today. I have spent the day here in this hiding place waiting for you to cross the rampway.”
Raamo nodded slowly. After a while he asked, “Quon, why is it that you no longer serve Regle? You went with him into the forest and you have served him secretly in Orbora. Why is it you no longer serve him?”
“It is because of the children,” Quon said eagerly. “When I went into the forest with D’ol Regle, I had not heard about the children and of how they took away the evil power of the ancient tool of death by the holy power of uniforce. While I served in Wissen-wald, we were told a story of what had happened on the day of the Rejoyning—but it was not a true story. We were told that the children stole the tool-of-violence, but not how they took it. We were not told about D’ol Regle’s threat against the lives of the children. Instead—they told us many things that were not true.
“But then, when I was sent back to Orbora, I began to hear other accounts of what had happened on the day of the Rejoyning. For a long time I was not sure what to believe. But after a time I began to see that many of the things I had been told to tell the new recruits were not true—things about the Erdlings and the Rejoyners. Still I was afraid and uncertain. I could not decide what to do.
“Then, three days ago, when I heard that the children had again been stolen, I knew suddenly what I must do. I knew then what it was that D’ol Regle planned to do, and I felt that I must stop him. I have long had great faith in you, D’ol—I mean—Raamo, since I first saw you when you were announced as a Chosen. I felt that I must speak to you. I knew that you were living at the Vine Palace, but I was afraid to go there because of Maala, so I began to follow you, hoping to catch you alone.
“But yesterday was the time for me to report again to D’ol Salaat in the secret meeting place, and I did not go. And since that time I have been afraid to show myself anywhere. I am afraid of everyone—because anyone might be secretly in the service of D’ol Regle. I do not dare go back to my guild hall. I am an outcast. And it is all for no purpose. I found you too late.”
“Perhaps it is not too late. I know that it will be useful to the Rejoyners to know of these things—of Regle’s community and of his secret followers in Orbora. But there is something that you should know. Earlier today a newsinger was given a message from Axon Befal, the leader of the Excelling group called the Nekom. Do you know of them?”
“Yes. I have heard many rumors about them.”
“The message was that they have taken the children. Axon is demanding that the Council swear allegiance to him in return for the safety of the children.”
A shock of surprise shook Quon. When he recovered himself enough to speak, he said, “It seems impossible. I was so certain—”
“Perhaps, now, you will decide to go on serving Regle, since it was belief that he had taken the children that made you turn against him.”
Quon did not answer immediately, but when he did he said, “No, I was almost decided before I heard of the abduction of the children. And then, that night, I followed you and the Kindar woman to the farheights and waited for you in the entryway. I was able to hear much of what was said by those who call themselves Ny-zhaan. And what I heard made me see—made me understand. ... No, I would no longer be able to go on serving D’ol Regle, whether or not he has stolen the children.”
Quon’s story was finished, and the telling left him drained and shrunken, as if he had been living on the strength of his resolve to find Raamo and speak to him, and now that the speaking was over, he was left without plan or purpose.
“Where will you go now?” Raamo asked.
“I don’t know.�
�
“I think I know a place where you would be safe and well cared for. Perhaps you could wait here until darkness and then go to the nid-place in the farheights—the one where you waited for me in the entryway. The people there are Ny-zhaan. I think you would be safe there.”
A glimmer of hope returned to the pale eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “You are right. I should have thought of it before. The woman said that all are welcome.”
“I don’t think you will have to worry there about secret followers of Regle. The Ny-zhaan seem to have few secrets.”
When Raamo left Quon’s hiding place, he hurried to the nearest glidepath and within a few minutes he was landing on the broad branchway that led past the assembly hall. When he entered the hall, he found that D’ol Falla had already finished telling the Council about the continued existence of the tool-of-violence, and the terrible fact that it had disappeared.
“There is nothing more that I can say,” D’ol Falla was saying as he approached the council table. “I know that I have failed you and the Rejoyning. That my motives were good does not excuse me. If I had trusted the Rejoyning enough, a better way might have been devised—a better way to solve the problem. But now it is too late, and there is nothing that I can do. Except, of course, I am immediately resigning from the Council. My poor judgment should bring no further harm to you and to the people of Green-sky.”
The Council was incomplete. A few Erdlings and several Kindar Councilors were not in their places. And without the accustomed leadership of the Chief Mediator, Hiro D’anhk, the meeting seemed directionless and uncertain. For the moment at least, the Councilors showed little awareness of the terrible implications of the disappearance of the ancient weapon. Most of them were more concerned with D’ol Falla’s grief and with her intention to resign from the Council.
Until the Celebration Page 13
