Mark went to the stairs and climbed up to the ledge that passed in front of the king’s Kiv. Duplicating the action of the Elders precisely, he ended by extending his hands until they touched the wall. The softness of the tissue began to envelope his hands and arms and he felt himself drawn into it. The transition was rapid. The next instant he was inside. It was not water from the ocean as he had thought, but rather fluid of the Dome itself. He recognized the quality of the recording gel—very strong in the liquid. As he drew it into his chest, he felt a sensation he had never known before. It was puzzling. He tried to analyze the input he was receiving, but everything felt so much a part of him he could not think inside it. He realized this was because he was inside it. And it was inside him at the same time. He could not tell where he as an individual stopped and where the environment around him began. His body no longer felt wetness or warmth. The outermost cells of his skin was the same as the next particle of fluid that touched it. There was no separation. He actually became like the temperature of the seawater on the outside as well as the coolness of the air inside the Domed city.
He soon realized that he was no longer looking out at the wall of the Kiv he had just passed through, but different visions were taking over his consciousness. Sometimes, in the past, when he had been dreaming a long and involved dream he would wake and know he had dreamt only minutes. The sequence of his dream, however, was long and covered sometimes days and weeks in great detail. What was happening to him was somewhat like that. In his mind, he could observe what was happening within the city, not just now but before and in an ever-increasing expansion of time. He was everywhere. In a single instant, he saw today, his anointing, his mother, Tei-La, and all the citizens of the city. In the same instant, however, he also saw his father lying without life on his bed next to the queen. There were all the king’s since the city passed beneath the surface and their people. The secession of Elders since the days of Draa-Pic were there with their complete history. Not a minute of time was omitted—not in the life of the city or of any individual. In that momentary existence of time, Mark knew all life, every birth, death, and all moments in between. He was there while the first king and Elders moved the city from the shore to the depths of the great inland sea. Ages later, he saw Poi-Den as he took the Dome on the long trek to the west and northward. He witnessed the entire interaction with the Landed Ones over that time and the setting of convergence markers. The stories his father had told him were no longer the lore of the city. They were before him and around him. They were, in fact, his life.
The Dome and he were one, and they communicated freely all that they were and what they had experienced. There was no time. There was only the energy of emotion that defined life itself. Mark now understood why the king had the title of the One Who Knows. In this moment, Mark was with his mother and could see her in her solitude sitting quietly in her place of meditation. He was with Tei-La as she walked along the street by the large canal. Nothing omitted. He encompassed all.
He felt an immense respect for the life of the Dome. This living thing that held and protected all their lives existed only for their wellbeing. It sought nothing in return. It lived and grew and extended itself at the request of the people. Mark offered his appreciation for the dignity of this great living thing. He knew the Dome received this sense of respect.
Depending on the extent of what was needed, the Elders would enter their Kivs in whatever number necessary and together, with the Dome, walls would grow, homes would be built, and anything needed would be done. What he now felt at the depths of his life was that it was not his life. It was not the city’s life. Nor in fact was there any one individual life. It was all one, and every part was just that. A part of the life.
He had no idea how much time he spent in the Kiv. He only knew it was not a dream and yet all of history had occurred. His mind focused and, with a sense of gratitude, he extended his hands and passed through the wall and onto the landing outside the Kiv. Walking down the steps to the lower level, he arrived just as Man-Den and the others, excepting one Elder who remained inside, emerged from their Kivs.
“We honor and respect the fifth in line of the kings.” Man-Den spoke as he and the Elders bowed to Mark. “I will take you to the hall of treasures and the Dome will allow your entry.”
“I know of the hall from my father, but not of what is in it. Man-Den will you join me and explain what you can?” Many times as a boy, Mark had listened as his father told stories of past kings using certain treasures to accomplish tasks that were beyond even their prodigious strength. Although he remembered the stories, he had never been schooled on the instruments and their uses.
“I am sorry, Ja-Lil, only one of the true blood is allowed to enter. It is not just tradition but fact. The Dome will not admit anyone who does not have blood of the royal line.”
“If I enter surely then you can accompany me.”
“The Dome will close the entry on anyone if they try to pass.”
In all his experience with the Dome, Mark never considered it to have volition of its own. He had assumed that it responded to the will and wellbeing of the citizens and specifically to the influence of whatever Elder occupied the Kiv at any given time. Mark knew that many families in the city had the specific job of guarding the king and his family, but he now realized his greatest protector was the Dome itself. It would react, if not with intelligence at least with instinct, in his best interest. This explained to him why he always felt so calm and assured when he was in the city.
“Then take me to the hall and thank you.”
Standing in front of the wall, which would lead to the hall, Mark watched as Man-Den and the four Elders left for their homes. The nodule in front of him glowed a gentle-green, but he did not immediately place his hand on it for entry. Everything he did now would be following in the footprint left before him by his father. He could still vividly see in his mind the image from the Dome of the king lying so peacefully on his bed with his mother. In a minute, he would enter this room where only his father and three others had been before him. He could not remember feeling moments of great sadness in his life. Indeed, he was not sure it was sadness that he felt now. It was more a sense of loneliness. He missed his father, yes, but his loneliness was more the type you feel in a crowded room when you know no one. Mark was aware that from now on, in this city he loved so much, he would always be separate from all the others. That he really would be alone. This was the feeling his father bore all of his life, just as the kings before him had done. But his father had the queen. Mark had a deeper and more profound sense of appreciation for the bond between his father and mother. And of course he had Tei-La. She was there now. She flooded his mind. He could see her, feel her, and smell the scent of her so clearly he actually glanced as if to suddenly see her standing behind him.
He would never be alone. This swell of emotions he experienced for his father would pass and the memory would soften its influence on him. He would have the strength that Tei-La would give him. He would only be as great a leader for his people as her support would let him be, and he knew her love was absolute.
“I am ready,” Mark said in a low voice to no one, and he placed his hand on the wall.
The seam began, and it appeared to Mark to move slower than other door openings elsewhere. It was as if the Dome was aware of the importance of him entering this room. The division was complete, and the wall retracted into itself. As Mark entered, the light in the room brightened.
“The treasure hall, Ja-Lil,” To-Bay’s long lecture of several nights ago reverberated in his ears, “contains all the relics of the ancients. All have a purpose and all can only be wielded by one of the line.”
Standing in the room and not moving, Mark could see over a dozen carved stone stands of various heights on top of which were different objects.
“Some have not been used in several generations,” his father had told To-Bay, “whil
e others are used on a regular basis.”
Slowly Mark approached the closest carved podium. It was the purest quality of marble and stood about five feet five inches in height. From the stepped base to the top, it was covered in finely chiseled relics. Grapevines formed frames around replicas of pillared buildings, fountains, and busts that he guessed to be Mediterranean in style. Resting on top were two bracelets; one of silver and the other of gold. In the center of each was a gem, which he could not identify. In the gold bracelet, there was a stone the size of a small acorn, almost white in color. At first, Mark assumed the light from the ceiling being emitted by the Dome was pinpointed at the stand. As he came closer, however, he was aware that the brightness he perceived was coming from the stones themselves. In the silver bracelet, the stone was orange and red except for the center, which pulsated in shades of orange and yellow.
These would be the “Hands of Healing and Closure.” It appeared that this father had related to To-Bay the items in the hall in order so that one would see them as they went through the room. “You will know each time the appropriateness of entering the body or not. For often the healing can come from without.” The second-hand instructions Mark knew would make logical sense when the time dictated, or he would know by instinct after he accepted the line of the life-thought of his father from the Nari-Tanta tomorrow. He took the ornaments in his hand and, as soon as he touched them, the light from the stones intensified. The white light and that from the reddish stone joined in a prism-like effect, and the reflection of the myriad of colors bounced off the walls.
The effect jarred his memory to a time long ago in his father’s house. Mark had been sitting in a small chair to the left of the king as citizens came through for healing and guidance. One particular older woman spoke to his father of the pains in her chest that were increasing daily. The king had her sit in his chair while he held her hands and fingers, and later cupped his hands around her feet and ankles. Mark had watched the king lead her to a small anteroom and, from where he sat, Mark saw the reflection of the rainbow of lights. Colors he had never seen before chased each other up and down the walls and raced over the parts of the ceiling and floor of the small room that he could see from his chair. He remembered so clearly the change in the woman when she emerged from the room with the king. Her face had filled out. Gone were the wrinkles that lined her brow, her mouth was no longer pressed into a tight line, and she wore a small smile. She had made a point of coming over to where he sat, and she touched his forehead gently.
“I bow to you too, my future king,” she had said, nodding her head slightly. As she left the room, his father also touched his head as he took his seat once more.
“We can take away pain and often give joy, my son. It is only time we’re powerless about.”
The gems dimmed to their original luster as he replaced them on the podium and stepped to the next. He stood and stared—not at the article but at the space of two or three inches between it and the table over which it hovered. Two wooden handles extended from the sides of this ceramic-like ball. Two small openings that held crystal-like stones were under the handles, and a third layer of stone was imbedded on the other side directly opposite the first two. In the Kiv earlier, he had seen his father’s father with this very thing, walking through the city to the ready room. He knew it was for the placement of the convergence markers his father had told him of.
“Immovable and light as air.” To-Bay had described it. “It will have the weight of the world when touched by others.”
Mark made his way around the hall, carefully taking in every aspect of each article and remembering every word To-Bay had used to describe them. With each piece, the image of his father grew stronger and, save for his voice, Mark felt his presence like a strong hand on his shoulder. Pondering the gold box filled with white sand, which was inscribed with a simple circle and a single dot in the middle—a symbol that To-Bay had described only as “primary start”—Mark placed it back on its stand and turned to the next pedestal. The sound of his own voice startled him almost as much as the object he was staring at. Resting in two cupped holders on the gray-green marble column lay the very knife that had threatened his life on his deck weeks ago.
Yet it couldn’t be. How could this weapon, which To-Bay had said his father described as a tool that could be used “…for internal healing or cleaning” have been removed from the hall and operated by someone who was not of the bloodline? He circled the stand to see the knife from all angles. The shiny casing covered the entire blade and the whole thing looked as if it had not been touched in years. Mark took it in his hands. He felt traces of the same fear he’d experienced that night by his pool. This tool could end his life or the life of anyone in the city, in an instant. He had seen how the wound on the younger man had never closed and his life slowly drained from him. It was merely an object now, weighing maybe one pound. It had no visible seams, and it rested benignly in his hand like a small, carved sculpture. Holding the round hilt-like cup in his left hand, he slid his right palm inside the opening. He wrapped his fingers around the smaller interior handle and, as his grip tightened, the round covering became liquid-like and retracted back into the handle, revealing the blade. As he looked at it, his fear was replaced with wonder. It was completely in his control. He knew it was never meant to be used as it had been, to harm someone. The words, healing and cleansing, still rang in his ears and he knew he held in his hands the possibility of life or death.
Still the mystery remained. It was virtually impossible for this or any other thing here to be removed by anyone other than himself or his father. Replacing the knife, he examined the remaining items and left the hall for his home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He stood there in the corridor as the wall closed behind him
and the seam silently disappeared. Now he had many more questions about the city and its people. How had the knife left the hall and returned? When he was in the Kiv, thousands of faces flashed through his mind. Until this moment, he had not thought about it, but now he realized the two men who tried to kill him were not among them. How could that be? They were definitely of the same people as he. They had possessed the knife. Where was the surviving older man? Mark had seen him actually enter the city so his life should have been recorded by the Dome. Ultimately, how could he have activated the knife if he was not of royal blood? These questions would have to wait unless the answers were forced upon him. He would now go home, change from his father’s clothes, go to the Nari-Tanta, and accept the king’s life-thought, hold it, and then return it after the knowledge of the ancients was transferred to him.
The citizens he passed on his way acknowledged him, but he already felt the change in their attitude. They gave him the space of deference, did not approach, and after nodding or smiling, they turned their faces away. He knew they did it because they did not want to intrude, but it reinforced his feeling of being separate. He knew the feeling would only grow stronger as the years went by. Upon entering his house, he went immediately, before changing, to his mother’s quarters. She was still where he had observed her while in the Kiv. He paused just inside the doorway to where she sat in meditation. Her eyes were closed and the Dome’s light fell in a warm circle around her. He stood there feeling so happy for his father. He could feel, looking at this remarkably beautiful woman, how humble and grateful the king had been to call her wife and share his life with her. She spoke without opening her eyes.
“My son is now my king.”
“Your husband is your king. I will always be your son.” He walked to her as she opened her eyes.
She turned to him and smiled. “Ja-Lil, I have decided to join your father. I have wanted to from the time of his passing, but I remained here because I knew his heart so well, and his heart was the city. Until you returned, I stood for him in advising Man-Den and the Elders, and through that I believe the people felt they still had a king.”
&
nbsp; “I understand.” And he did. Completely. “I will inform Man-Den and will tell the people. Tomorrow, I will take you to join my father.”
She kissed the palms of both his hands and returned to her platform as he left the room.
Walking back along the streets after changing from his father’s clothes, Mark tried to put his feelings in perspective. He had observed, over the time he had spent on the surface, how the people there reacted to death. He had come to understand their sense of loss and their sadness at being alone. It was the anger that bewildered him. Their seeking of some kind of retribution for the loss of the one they loved. It must have been, he finally concluded, that they felt all was over and any connection they had with the departed was severed. That loss of hope and power caused them to react with anger.
Approaching Man-Den’s home, he had a growing feeling of elation. His mother was going to where she wanted to be. She was continuing in the direction she had chosen when she married. He knew the city would celebrate her and her life.
He met Roi-Den on the street, and in the short distance to his home, told him of his mother’s decision.
“Ja-Lil, I knew it was going to be sometime. How wonderful for you to have them together again.” Roi-Den led Mark to the minister’s quarters where his aunt and Man-Den rose to their feet as he entered.
“I am afraid it will take some time, Man-Den, before I am used to this. Please, sit down,” he said.
Mark sat quickly to stop further shows of respectful tradition for his new position.
“Ja-Lil has wonderful news, father.” Roi-Den jumped in immediately. “The queen has decided to join his father at the transference tomorrow.”
Len-Wei lightly clapped her hands together and from that little gesture, Mark knew she was happy for her sister.
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