There wasn’t much point in secrecy anymore, so Smiller ordered the boulder opened and all the lights turned on. Da and I and Sefan went back up to the Crow’s Nest; Beck was up there, operating a search beam. Most of the grass had been flattened in all directions. The sea was gone; instead, there was the mud-flat, with here and there a fallen boffili sticking up like a smaller, hairier version of the boulder.
On the horizon, something smoldered. Beck aimed her light at it and I put on a helmet to look at the amplified image. I wished I hadn’t. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of boffili were lying on the ground in heaps—burning. The bombs had knocked them flat and other beasts had charged into them, breaking their legs and necks and spines.
The stampeding herd had trampled out any threat of the fire spreading. The grass had been trampled into the mud. And only the hair of and flesh of those directly under the bombs still burned. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d never see anything like this again in my life. There was a majesty to this horror that transcended language.
There were things moving out there. Smaller, darker shapes that loped through the night. Kacks! Dozens of them! They ripped at the flesh of the fallen beasts and gorged themselves hungrily. I zoomed in on a family of them pulling great chunks away from the corpse of a boffili cow. Huge animals, bigger than the ones in the Dome, larger than wolves, almost as large as Earth horses, they looked all tooth and muscle. A trick of the goggles, their eyes glowed red. One of them looked up from his feast, looked around—looked straight at me. I shuddered. Even though he was too far away to see me, couldn’t possibly have known I was watching him, I shuddered. He turned back to his meal and began gulping down another piece of boffili.
Sefan said something beside me. I realized he didn’t understand how the helmets worked—how could he have? I took it off and helped him put it on. “Just look through the . . . front.” There wasn’t a word for goggles. He straightened and stared. He put his hands up to the side of the helmet, adjusting the way it sat on his head. He seemed to be uncertain—not knowing what he should be seeing—and then he flinched as the image snapped into existence in front of him.
He screamed and pulled the helmet off his head, shouting about demon-things inside. “What mad creatures live in that?”
“No, no, Sefan. It works like a shaped glass. It brings the light closer. Take another look.”
He shook his head. “No, no—I saw dead boffili. I saw kacks! As close as you!”
I started to explain again, but Da stopped me. “Kaer, don’t force him. Perhaps Sefan has had his share of miracles today.”
And then Beck tapped me on the shoulder and pointed. The God-Chopper was coming in. It was time to go. We went downstairs again, met Alex and Byrne, picked up our equipment, and trundled out through the boulder’s loading ramp to where our glittering chariot was just touching down. It glittered and blazed and lit up the whole night sky. The pilot saw us and waved. I waved back. The rear doors of the machine popped open and almost immediately Byrne and Alex began carrying their gear up the ramp, followed by two other techs.
Da said, “Wait here until they finish loading,” and then he went to help.
Beside me, Sefan had gone abruptly pale. He grabbed my arm.
“What?” I asked.
“You want me to go up in that. . . ?”
“You have no need to fear—”
He turned to me, shaking. He could barely get the words out. “Tell me truthfully. Have I died? Did the boffili trample me to death? Has this wagon of the sky come to take me to heaven?”
“You haven’t died, Sefan. The sky—wagon will fly us to Mordren.”
He didn’t believe me. “I can’t—” He pulled back. “I don’t want to die.” He looked around wildly.
“Sefan—you won’t die!” I grabbed his arm to keep him from running into the grass. He started slapping at me.
Byrne came out of the chopper then, saw me holding Sefan’s arm—saw him trying to flee. She came running over and wrapped her arms around him in a restraining hug. “Sefan! Sefan! Listen to me—Listen! Please! If you don’t want to fly in the sky-wagon, you don’t have to. Please stop fighting me and listen.”
She was a strong woman, stronger than I thought. As hard as he resisted, she just held on. Behind her, two commandos came out onto the ramp ready to assist, if necessary—but it was obvious they weren’t going to be needed.
After a moment, Sefan calmed down. “I don’t want to die. I don't want to go to heaven. Please don’t take me. Please let me stay here and serve the Mother. Like you promised I could. Let me go, please—”
Byrne said, “Sefan, listen to me. I will let you go, but you must promise me that you will not try to run away. Do you promise?”
He nodded.
She let go of him, but she turned him around and took both his hands in hers. “Listen to me, please. I know that you’ve seen too many strange and terrible things tonight. And you have a right and a reason for your fear. I can’t ask you to trust me because you don’t know me. And I can’t ask you to believe me because you don’t know what to believe anymore. But I can ask you to come with us—and help us deliver a message of peace to your people at Mordren. If you don’t want to do that, you don’t to have to. But we still have to go. We have to do it.”
Sefan looked from her to me. “Kaer goes to Mordren?”
“Kaer has to deliver the message.”
“You can’t take Kaer to Mordren—”
“We’ll keep Kaer safe—”
He shook his head. “No. You don’t know about Mordren.” He pulled away and came to me. “Please don’t go to Mordren—”
“I have to.”
Sefan looked nervously to the chopper. “In that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“All right. Then I have to go with you—to keep you safe.” He looked to Byrne. “I will go with Kaer.”
Byrne smiled in disbelief. “Thank you, Sefan.” She looked at her watch. “You’d better get aboard then.”
I led Sefan into the God-chopper. “Do you want to sit by the window?” He nodded.
I pushed him into a seat and showed him how to fasten his safety harness, then I sat down opposite him. Da came and joined us then, sitting himself down next to Sefan. He was wearing full battle-gear and Sefan stared at him in alarm—until Da took off his helmet and smiled.
In English, I asked, “Are you going to war, da?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You didn’t get to do much on this operation, did you?”
He laughed. “Is that what you think?”
“Well, you had to stay with me the whole time—”
“I had two jobs, Kaer. Do you know what I did before I married into the family?”
“No?”
“Well, neither does anyone else. But that’s part of what I did here. The same kind of job. I’m an . . . advisor. And the important part of what I did was finished before we came to get you. And after we came to get you, my job was taking care of you—which is the only job I every really wanted. So if you’re thinking that I didn’t get to be a part of the rescue, don’t think that. Everything that happened here, I was a big part of it—that’s why I take your reaction so serious, Kaer—because you understand Linnea better than any of us.”
“Thank you, da.”
“No. Thank you, Kaer.”
The engines strummed to life then, and we lifted up into the air. Sefan yelped, but after a moment he calmed down and actually began to enjoy himself. He laughed and giggled and pointed at the boulder as it dropped away below.
And so we went to Mordren.
Mordren Enclave
After a few minutes, Byrne brought us mugs of tea. She sat down in the empty seat and made small talk for a few moments. “How are you feeling, Kaer? Tired? Do you need to rest?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Sefan frowned at our strange words. He’d never heard English before. But on top of everything else that had happen
ed tonight, what was one more mystery?
“Good. You’ve been holding up very well, Kaer.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“I know you’re not. But grownups sometimes underestimate kids. We forget how strong you can be when you have to.” She turned to Sefan and switched back to Linnean. “How do you feel, Sefan?”
“I feel . . .” He shook his head and half-grinned. “I started to say that I feel as if I’ve fallen out of the world. But I have fallen out of the world, haven’t I? So how else can I feel?”
“Sometimes I feel the same way, Sefan. I think most of us do from time to time—even as we go through our ordinary days.”
“Forgive me, Byrne, but I very much doubt that you have ordinary days.” He gestured at the chopper around us, as if that were explanation enough. Byrne smiled and nodded and we all laughed at Sefan’s insight.
“I think you speak the truth, Sefan.” She patted his knee. “You said that we don’t know about Mordren. What don’t we know, that we should?”
“How to get in. How to get out again. What to say. Who to say it to. The Magistrates have rituals. They have truths. They have . . . things I can’t tell you about.” He scratched his head with his unsplinted right arm. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. I’ve lived with the Magistrates almost all my life. How can I teach you a lifetime of devotion in a few minutes?”
“You won’t have to,” said Byrne. She laid out her clipboard on her lap so we could all see it and displayed an aerial view of Mordren. It was a live transmission from one of our spybirds. “We’ll circle the enclave three times with all our lights shining. Then we’ll hover over this large plaza. We’ll lower Kaer on the flying rig and—”
“No,” I said.
Byrne looked up. “Eh?”
“No. I’ve thought about it. No more flying. No more stunts. No more smoke and mirrors, Byrne. When we do that, we scare them. They don’t see us as people. They see us as things to fear. If I fly above them, they’ll bring out all their warriors and start shooting. Sefan, tell her. What will happen in Mordren if an Angel appears over the plaza?”
He shuddered. “Probably, the same thing that happened in the sea. The people of the Mother Land have warned everyone that the maiz-likka would appear as fiery Angels, but that the arrows of righteousness would drive them back to Hell. . . .” He looked embarrassed.
I turned back to Byrne. “And then after they start shooting at us, you’ll start shooting back at them, won’t you? Maybe someone will get electrified, maybe some buildings will get blown up. Maybe some more people will get killed. And everybody will run around screaming in fear, yelling about the end of the world. Maybe this time, instead of a stampede, we can start a range fire. And instead of delivering the message we came to deliver, we’ll end up doing even more damage to these people. Your way sends the wrong message. No.”
Byrne looked at me with narrow eyes. “Kaer—we’ve worked on this plan for a long time. We’ve put a lot of thought into this. Your da—”
“You didn’t talk it over with me—”
“Kaer, the decision had to be made by—”
“—Adults? Didn’t you just say to me a little while ago something about how you underestimated me?”
Byrne stopped. She took a breath. “Kaer—!”
“Byrne—!” For a moment, we just glared at each other.
“All right,” she said, sitting back, folding her arms across her chest. “Go ahead. Tell me your idea. I can see that you won’t let us talk about anything else until you’ve had your say.”
“Think about this,” I said. “You land the chopper on this lawn, in the center of the plaza. I get out. I walk a few meters away from the chopper and I stand there with open hands. No lights, no fancy makeup, no funny sound effects. Just me. Alone. And I wait for someone to come out to meet me. They will; won’t they, Sefan?”
He nodded.
“Who will come out?” asked Byrne.
“The Senior Magistrate. No one else would dare. And he wouldn’t dare not to.” Sefan smiled at some joke unknown to the rest of us. “He has many, many years. He often talks about how the Mother will send for him soon, how he will go to live in the grass soon. He will probably announce that his chariot has arrived.”
“What about warriors?” asked da.
He shook his head. “No warriors. They can’t come into the temple—ever. Even if The Seniors trusted them, which they don’t, the church has never allowed weapons of any kind on the holy ground, nothing maiz-likka. If you land here—” He pointed at the lawn, “—that will demand the attention of The Seniors in a way they cannot ignore.”
“Holy ground,” said Byrne. “I like the symbolism. It proves our good intentions.”
“No soldiers,” said da. “I like that even better.”
“Will The Senior listen to Kaer?”
“Yes,” said Sefan. “He will. Everyone will.”
Byrne turned back to me. “And what will you say, Kaer? I assume you’ve figured that part out too?”
“I tell him that the people of Oerth want to serve the Mother—the same way the people of Linnea do. We tell him that we do not want any more violence against our people. We thank him for listening. And we go.”
“It almost works,” said da.
“Almost,” agreed Byrne.
“But—?” da asked.
“We still have to fulfill the prophecy,” said Byrne, thoughtfully. “We have to give them the Ten Commandments, remember?” She considered it a moment longer. “Well, we can give them the commandments as a gift.”
“You don’t give someone commandments as a gift,” I said. And suddenly realized what was wrong with them. I grinned at the realization.
“Then what do we give them—?” Both da and Byrne looked at me.
“The ten promises.”
“Eh?”
“The Mother doesn’t believe in commandments. People never do what you tell them. You have to ask them to make promises. Just take that list, Byrne—and wherever it says ‘you will’ change it to say, ‘I will.’ And then it works a lot better.”
Byrne turned her clipboard around and flashed to that page. She made the change and her frown softened, became a smile. “I like it. I like it, a lot.” She turned the clipboard around for da to see.
Sefan reached out and took it from her. He studied the Linnean script, his lips moving silently. Finally, he looked up at me. “And who will make these promises, Kaer?”
“We will,” I said. “And everyone else who wants to serve the Mother. But no one can ever order or compel anyone else to make these promises. They have to come willingly from each person’s heart.”
Sefan nodded. “I would make these promises.”
Byrne and da traded a long glance. Both of them saw the point. But neither of them would commit to it. Byrne shook her head sadly. “I fear the risk. What if something went wrong? I’d never forgive myself. No, I can’t allow it. Smiller wouldn’t allow it. Jorge wouldn’t.”
“They went to the Mother Land,” I said. “We have to make this decision ourselves—”
“Your da won’t allow it.” Byrne said. As if that were the end of it.
I looked to da.
“Kaer—” he began.
“Da—” I interrupted. “Look at Sefan. He has no more years than I do. But in his world, he carries the responsibilities of an adult. As a Magistrate’s novice, he has the authority of judge. And a little while ago, he stood out in the grass with a crossbow, ready to die like a soldier. Would you say that Sefan had no right to take such a stand?”
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“Then let me take this stand for peace.”
“Sefan didn’t have a choice, Kaer. You do.”
“Yes, da. I do have a choice. That makes it all the more important that I choose to do this. Da, remember the word empowerment? How does that apply here? If we threaten them, do we empower them? How can we expect the Magistrates to trust us if we come down on them
like all the furies of Hell. But if I go out there, unarmed, and stand before them—no fancy makeup, no glittering lights, just the hair and the beads, like the Mother herself—then that will show them that we trust their good will not to harm us.”
Da opened his mouth to disagree, but I kept going. “Da, they won’t have heard about what happened in the sea tonight. They won’t hear about it for at least three or four days—”
Byrne said, “Kaer has a point. If we tell them that we come in peace and that we will not allow anyone to hurt our people—”
“No,” I said. “That sounds like a threat too. They’ll figure it out themselves when they hear the news. I think we should do it as simply as possible.” And then I added, “Please, Byrne.”
Byrne looked down at her clipboard. No answer there. She took a couple of long breaths while she came to terms with the situation. Finally, she looked up. She looked at me, then she looked to da. In English, she said, “Lorrin, I’m afraid that your kid just might be smarter than all the rest of us put together. I can’t argue with this.” She took another breath, disgusted with herself as much as with the situation.
“If it were my decision alone, I wouldn’t risk it, but Kaer did make one good point that I can’t argue with. Everyone else has put their butt on the line tonight. As much as we want to protect our children, we can’t give them responsibility if we don’t also let them take risks. If Kaer were my child, I’d say no. I’d be a damned fool to allow it, but from a tactical point of view, I have to say that what Kaer has suggested is the better plan.”
“Yes,” agreed da. “I’m embarrassed that I didn’t suggest it myself.”
“We both know why you didn’t.” She spread her hands helplessly. “This is your call, Lorrin.”
“No,” he said. “It’s Kaer’s call. We have to trust our Angel.” He turned to me. “I was right to bring you, sweetheart. Now I know why.”
Byrne smiled grimly. “Now the hard part. I have to tell Smiller—”
Child of Grass: Sea of Grass, Book Two Page 31
