by Andrew Elgin
Javin found the meal strange, but not because of the food. It was good and fresh and spicy and accompanied by a semi-alcoholic drink whose name he failed to catch. It was strange because this was the first meal he had not felt he had earned or had a part in preparing. The first meals at Landing didn't count.
They were seated in what looked like a large room in a larger-than-normal home. It was not what Javin would have thought of as a restaurant. There was no menu. You got what was available. It was simply a place for people to come and sit and eat and drink.
What should have been a relaxing experience was marred by the effects of the recent news. People whispering and looking shocked. Some braver ones coming to Torrint and asking for details, which he or Banith carefully repeated. Javin never got answers to his questions about sending the message.
Being amongst this number of people was now, Javin realized, unusual. It was the biggest group of people he had seen since his arrival. That newness meant that it was unnerving. He became aware of feelings, of emotions around him and was thankful for Torrint's words. Not having been amongst people for so long, he hadn't realized just how much he used to absorb from them. He flashed back to Haven, or what he could recall of it, and understood far more precisely just how little of his emotions and reactions were purely of his own making. It was a sobering realization. It was with some relief to him when they were able to leave and return to the hut and their nearby wagons.
There were a few people waiting quietly inside the hut, sitting with their backs against the low wall. Bendiss, now wrapped up in several blankets against the pervasive chill, was finishing some bread and drained the last of some juice as they arrived. He shook his head at them. "Nothing yet. Maybe they'll be sending soon." He gestured at the people there. "You're welcome to stay and wait with the others."
Javin didn't know if he really wanted to be with more people and was about to go to the wagon and wait there when he felt a strange tingling in his head, as if someone was trying to scratch his skull from the inside. Startled, he turned to find Bendiss sitting up straight, eyes closed and a look of concentration on his face. That something was happening was apparent from the attentive attitude of the onlookers. The itching became almost unbearable before quickly fading away. Soon after, Bendiss opened his eyes and stood up. He seemed more relaxed now and gathered his thoughts for a moment. Finally, he spoke directly to Torrint and Banith. "As you can tell, we have the Group's answer. It is as follows. First, they thank us for the information. Second, they will investigate this further and see if anything like it has happened elsewhere. Third, they suggest that Harmony be left to deal with Blackeye as it was She who brought this about. Last, they ask us to inform them of anything else which seems even slightly unusual, or not as it should be." He reviewed his thoughts and nodded as he found them to agree with his words.
Torrint stood for a moment mulling over the message. Finally, he touched his fingers to his brow and formally thanked Bendiss, bowed once to the onlookers and then headed to his wagon. Within a few moments they were all three heading off. The clouds were breaking up and the occasional sunshine warmed them on the outside, but Javin nevertheless felt a chill inside.
It wasn't until much later, when they had left the town behind and the sun had dropped, that Torrint came to a halt. His bleak demeanor had forestalled any possible conversation Javin might have wished to start. It was only after having settled the beasts and they were seated around a small fire, picking at some dried fruit, that Javin felt he could at last ask all the questions which had been piling up. Torrint appeared lost in thought still, so he turned to Banith.
"What happened back there?"
"Which part, Javin?" Banith asked.
"I don't know where to start. How did it work? The messages thing? Did they really send a message to Landing? And Landing sent one back? How?"
Banith shook his head. "I don't know. All I know is that those deecees in the hut were responsible. That and the people there. You have to have enough people to make it work, that I do know. That's why small places, like the farm you were on, don't have them. But how it works? I have no idea. They're old. Very old. Apparently they came with, or were made by, the first settlers here. That's maybe a story. They are certainly old. But beyond that? I don't know. I just know it works. We've been there when they've sent messages, but never been part of it. That was the first time for me, for us."
"What are they called again? It's strange to see something here made of what looks like plastic."
Banith looked puzzled momentarily. "Plastic? I don't know what that is. We call them deecees, but I don't know what that word means. It's what they've always been called. They are old and they are strange, but they work and always have worked."
"So where do you get them from, these deecees?"
"Landing. They have them, I think. The tales are that they are supposed to have lots of them there. If you live somewhere that has enough people, you can ask Landing for one and they'll send it."
Javin thought for a moment. "But that would take ages! Is that really how it works?"
Banith nodded. "Yes. It would take a long while. But, here, that is not so important, maybe."
Javin gazed into the fire, still aware that there was still so much he did not understand about this planet. He finished off his fruit and tossed the dark seeds into the fire where they cracked and spat blue sparks.
"Why are we here, then? Not back in Sweetwater?" And suddenly he remembered. "Hey! We were going to find a healer for me there! What happened to that idea?" This last was addressed to Torrint, who finally stirred. Unusually, he didn't stop to spit or jam a leaf into his mouth. Javin could not recall him not chewing for so long. He took it as a sign of deep disturbance.
When Torrint spoke, his voice was heavy and his words slow, slower than usual. "We are here so people can stop looking at us and thinking of their dead relatives. We are here because nobody would want to trade with us. We'll spend a day or so and then see about going back. I made a promise to you about the healer and I intend to see it through. But another day or so will not add hurt to you or make it worse for you. But it might make it easier for everyone. So we stay here." He looked back along the path they had taken but there was no evidence of any buildings in the gathering gloom. No lights showed, no sounds could be heard. Javin thought they could be miles and miles away, or just around a hill. "If people really want to find us, they can. We're close enough to be found. Far enough to be hidden."
Javin felt angry with himself for having forgotten about the healer until just now. He understood Torrint's reasoning, but it did not help to think that just back a few hours there could be someone who could help him remember who he was. He could walk back, but not in the dark. He couldn't do anything right now, and he didn't like it.
He went over the day again in his mind. Replay after replay. He still did not know how it had worked, but apparently someone from Landing had somehow heard them and answered. Lisick or Gerant. He knew them both. And thinking of them made him realize that, apart from Torrint and Banith here, probably nobody in Sweetwater knew them, knew what they looked like. There were so few people here on this planet and everyone knew only a few others. It was a strange thought; the separation, the isolation, the distances.
"What do you think of the answer Lisick and Gerant sent back?" He couldn't find the healer, but he could talk about people he knew. "Did it make sense to you? 'Leave it to Harmony'? Shouldn't they have a proper burial?"
"A burial is putting people in the ground, isn't it?" Torrint drawled. "They will end up in Harmony, one way or another, won't they? So what's better about digging holes for them?"
"But it shows respect! It shows someone cares."
"Seems to me that plenty of people back there cared. Digging holes isn't going to add to that."
The anger at the missed opportunity to find the healer, the evidence of advanced technology, the metal which came from Haven, the ability to speak across distances but not k
now how it was done, all of it came to a sudden point in Javin's mind. "So, whatever Harmony does is right? Can't be argued with? Even though young children died, were killed, in Blackeye? That's fine! Because it was Harmony that did it. Harmony that killed them. They deserved it. All of them. Especially the kids, eh?" Javin's fists were balled in anger as he spat his words out. "They made a mistake and they were killed for it. That's not justice, that's... that's--"
"That's what happens here." Torrint's voice cut across Javin. "This is not your planet. This is not your place to judge us. You don't even have a talent, just potential. You have no right to judge us. No right. Harmony keeps us safe and we respect Her and what She wants. She lets us live here--"
"Lets you live? Lets you?" Javin could not contain himself. "Is that what you believe? That you have no rights? None? That She can kill you whenever She wants? Like squashing a bug? Is that how you see it?"
"It's not that simple--," Banith began.
Javi rounded on him. "It's exactly that simple! Harmony controls life and death here and nobody has any say in the matter? You were born here, Banith? Did you ask to be?" Banith shook his head. "So even though you didn't ask to be here, Harmony could kill you simply because She didn't like you. Maybe, with the very first settlers, the ones who weren't invited, that would be fair. But now? After all this time? Everyone here was born because She let the first ones live. That's not right. It's just not!"
Banith tried again. "We, all of us, have a responsibility here. A responsibility to Harmony. To live together--"
"I don't want to hear it." Javin was on his feet staring across the flames at the other two. "And you want to know why? It's because neither of you saw anything wrong in what was said. Neither of you, and nobody in Sweetwater come to that, thought that they should go and bury the bodies and show some respect. Nobody felt it was the right thing to do." He suddenly felt drained, empty. "And that's just wrong. It's wrong." Tears were in his eyes. "I don't want to be here, but I can't leave and there's nothing I can do to change this. And to think I could be killed any day by a planet... a planet! Just because it feels like it! People kill other people. Planets don't!
"I don't want to end up not caring about the dead. Maybe, when I get my memories back, I'll find out I was a murderer. But, until then, I want to think that I could at least care about others. And, yes, I should have done something. I'm just as much to blame. But so is Harmony, if you're right." With a final shuddering sigh, he turned away and found a place between the wheels where he could see the stars but hide his face.
He felt a greater distance between himself and anyone or anything now. It was, he realized, what being completely alone really meant. That feeling settled deeper into him as, little by little, he drifted reluctantly into sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Javin was in a place he thought he almost recognized. He was walking down a lane, narrow and with high earthen banks on each side. It looked old, felt old. Ancient. The age of it was strangely comforting, as if the previous travelers, however few over the years, had known where they were going and had left that certainty and sureness of step buried in the ground itself, ready to leach into his footsteps and give him that self-same comfort. The banks either side of the lane curved away upwards. Perhaps the age-long use had worn the depth down. Or, maybe the banks had somehow grown to nurture and protect the way. On the top of the banks, which were just a little taller than his head, hedges of some sort grew in such a way as to block out any distant views. But the sunlight could still percolate through to where he was. The whole feeling was of seclusion, security, acceptance and an underlying purpose; even if he did not yet understand what that was.
He was walking. He did not know from where or for how long or to what destination. But he was walking with a purpose. As he walked, so the banks lowered a little until they were at head height. But, as they lowered, so the hedges thickened and grew taller, interweaving above him to maintain the secretive gloom. As he walked, he became aware that he could see what looked like a gap in the bank ahead. At least, it seemed it might be. There appeared to be a slight brightening emanating from there. It felt as if he was being beckoned in some fashion by the glow, as if it was his destination. He reached that point and saw the earthen bank still directly in front of him, but there was a hollow in the bank and the path curved to it. The slight glow he had seen was indeed coming from this entrance, this doorway. For that is what he saw it was, a doorway, and he felt the invitation to go through it.
He walked through, without stooping, although he was sure that it had looked smaller at first glance. The glow increased slightly inside. As he walked, downhill it seemed, he noticed the roots of the hedge protruding from the earth. He was aware that the earthen walls felt warm and dry, solid and secure.
As he went deeper, so there began to grow in him a sense of something important, an impending event to which he was, somehow, privy. He could not bring to mind what exactly he was there for, but he knew it to be of huge importance. And as that awareness grew in him, so did his excitement. But he was also aware that this was to be a solemn occasion, no room for levity in any way. Therefore, he kept his excitement in check, knowing he would remember the reasons for all this in due course.
Finally, after following a slow bend in the tunnel, he found himself before a wooden door. It opened into a room. The walls were of wood panels, plain worked, and the room was well lit by a source of light he was not quite able to discern. His sense of anticipation was now intense. He knew it was close, whatever it was. He knew he had to wait here until the next step in this journey was revealed to him. He was not nervous; there was just a deep-rooted sense of well-being, of something about to happen which would, in some fashion, change his life. It was a good feeling.
Something prompted him to turn around. He found that a man had entered the room from some unseen doorway and was waiting for him. The man was dressed in clothes which were beautifully cut and fashioned and scrupulously clean, with sharp creases and polished buttons. The whole effect was of crisp cleanliness combined with stately grandeur, for the man's appearance matched that of the clothes he wore. He was old yet with a keen eye and filled with vigor, slim but not thin, deferential but not servile, helpful yet in command. His whole attitude spoke of service and high office combined.
Without knowing how, Javin realized that there had been a courteous inquiry as to his readiness for the meeting. She was ready to receive him now, if he would come this way. At this, Javin knew with utter and complete certainty that She was the source of the light in this room. It emanated from Her. In Her presence, it would be dazzling! Unbearable! And he wanted so much to be in it, be in Her presence.
He followed the man around a corner of the room he had not been aware of and there, before him, were the doors to Her chamber, open for him, Her light flooding out, filling everything. But there was more than just light. Being this close, he could also make out sounds; a rich complexity of sounds, harmonics, melodies, symphonies and single, achingly pure notes. The sound and the light wove into each other, forming something almost tangible.
The man, the chamberlain or whatever his role was, stopped, bowed to Javin and indicated with the slightest of gestures that he should go on.
Javin could not see anything except the light ahead of him. It became brighter, richer. Somehow it seemed that it wrapped around him, enfolding him in its magnificence. It was light, for it filled his eyes and his brain. It was of Her. It emanated from Her and enfolded him. Then the clear, sweet-sounding blending of notes, of complex songs, also became part of it. They too wrapped themselves around him, dove into him, filled him, every part of him. She was pouring into him as much of Herself as he could stand. She wanted to fill him, to let Herself be known by him. She trusted him to accept Her and to know Her. And still the light poured in and still the sounds enveloped him, filled him and echoed within him. He was embraced and enfolded within it all.
It was sublime and humbling at the same time. If he
could have moved voluntarily, he would have thrown himself on the ground in obeisance. He felt charged. He was graced by Her presence and blessed by Her light, fed by Her music.
Standing there, he could not utter a sound of his own. He was not sure if he could look upon Her directly. Was it even allowed? And then he knew that he dare not look at Her, only glance at Her from the corner of his eyes. Grace, beauty, vast intelligence and, most humbling of all, the gentlest and deepest and kindest humor he had ever felt. It was as if She knew him from his birth and yet She found him of worth and of delight to Her.
For the merest second, the slightest moment, he was aware of the side of Her face. The slightest hint of a profile and it was forever in his memory. That flash of a face was burned in him. The chin, the angle of the cheekbone, red hair tumbling, and, oh most glorious! Her eye! He could not ever describe it to anyone else. She was not looking at him. How could She, if he were to survive? She knew the weakness of him and forbore to look directly upon him. She saved him with Her grace, by looking just far enough away from him to allow him to see. With a direct gaze, She would not turn him to stone, but to pure light, where he might be part of Her light. She forbore from adding his sounds to Her.
The breath was sucked from him. He was weak with exaltation and joy. He became dimly aware that the chamberlain had appeared by his side, had guided him by his arm back to the room from which he had come. The light dimmed, the music softened. Was it because She had withdrawn, or had the doors been closed? He did not know. All he knew was that he was trembling with fatigue and excitement. Yet, She remained in him, in some fashion. In his mind? In his spirit? It was more than memory. It was as though he had been immersed in something wonderful and joyous and it had permeated throughout him, penetrating every aspect of him, impossible to remove. And he would never want to remove it. He knew that. He was utterly changed by Her. He had been blessed by Her.
