They were pouring out of the houses, adults and children alike. Many of them screamed and cried at the sight of Nafai, the arrows in him.
"Look- he didn't have even a bow with him," she said. "They shot at him with no provocation!"
"It's a lie!" cried Elemak, striding into the village. "I thought they'd try something like this! Nafai put the arrows in himself, to make it look like an attack."
Now Zdorab and Volemak were there with her, and they were the ones who reached up and pulled the arrows from him. The one in his neck had to be broken and pulled out from the arrowhead side. Elemak's arrow tore his chest badly coming out. He felt the blood rush out of both wounds, and speech was still impossible for him, but Nafai also could feel the cloak working within him, healing him, keeping the wounds from killing him.
"I refuse to let you blame us for this," said Elemak. "Nafai's an expert at playing the victim."
But Nafai could see that no one was buying Elemak's lies, except perhaps Kokor and Dol, who were never terribly bright and were easily deceived.
"No one believes you," said Father. "Nafai himself knew that you were planning this."
"Oh, really?" asked Elemak. "Well, if he's so wise now, why did he stroll right into this supposed ambush?"
Nafai put the answer in his fathers mind.
"Because he wanted everyone to see your arrows in him," said Father. "He wanted everyone to see clearly who and what you are, so there's never any doubt about it."
"Most of us saw it all along," said Rasa. "We hardly needed Nafai to bear such wounds."
"It doesn't matter," said Luet. "Nafai wears the cloak of the Oversoul. He's the starmaster now. The cloak is healing him. There's nothing Elemak and Mebbekew can do to harm him now."
Am I ready yet? Nafai asked. The pain had subsided considerably.
(Almost.)
Elemak was keenly aware that no one was with him now, except Meb, who had no choice. Even Vas and Obring were averting their gaze from him—there'd be no support from them. But then, he had never expected any. "Whatever we did," said Elemak, "we did for the sake of our children, our wives—and your wives and children, too. Do you really want to leave here? Is there a one of you who wants to leave this place?"
"None of us want to go," said Luet. "But we all knew that this was the plan from the beginning—to take us to Earth. That was never a secret. No one lied to you."
And then—the crowning insult—Eiadh added her voice to Luet's. "I don't want to leave Dostatok," she said. "But I would rather wander in the desert forever than have a decent man killed to keep us here."
She spoke with fire, and Elemak felt it burn within him. My own wife, and she damns me with her accusations.
"Ah, you're all so brave now!" he cried. "But yesterday you agreed with me. Did any of you really think that our peace and happiness here would be preserved without bloodshed? You've all known it from the beginning—as long as Nafai was free to stir things up, there'd be mutiny and dissension among us. The only hope we have of peace is what I tried to do more than eight years ago."
(Now.)
He rose to his feet. To his surprise, he was unsteady, lightheaded. At once he "remembered" why—the cloak took energy from his own body when it had to, and the process of healing him so quickly was sucking strength from him faster than the cloak could replenish itself from the sunlight. However, he also knew that this temporary weakness would not stop him from doing all that he needed to do.
"Elemak," he said. "I've wept all the way here. It fills me with anguish, what you've tried to do. If only you'd bend enough to accept the Oversoul's plan—I would have followed you gladly if you had only done that. But all along, if s been you, your ambition to rule, that has torn us apart. If you hadn't plotted with them, led them, do you think these weak ones would ever have resisted the Oversoul? Elemak, don't you see that you've brought yourself to the edge of death? The Oversoul is acting for the good of all humanity, and it will not be stopped. Do you have to die before you'll believe that?"
"All I know is that whenever the Oversoul gets mentioned, it's you or your whiny wife or your mother the queen who's angling for control."
"None of us has sought to rule over you or anybody else," said Nafai. "Just because you live every waking moment with dreams of controlling other people doesn't mean that the rest of us do. Do you think that it's my ambition that created this paritka I'm standing on? Do you think it's Mother's plotting that holds it off the ground? Do you think it was Luet's—what did you call it, whining?— that brought me here, a day's journey in an hour?"
"It's an ancient machine, that's all," said Elemak. "An ancient machine, just like the Oversoul. Are we going to take our orders from machines?"
He looked around for support, but the blood on Nafai's throat and tunic was too fresh; no one met his gaze except Mebbekew.
"We're moving the village to the north, near Vusadka," said Nafai. "And all of us, including the older children, will work with the Oversoul's machines to restore one starship. And when it's ready, then all of us will enter the starship and rise up into space. It will take us a hundred years to reach Earth, but to most of us it will seem like a single night, because they'll sleep through the whole voyage, while to the rest of us it will seem like a few months. And when the voyage ends, we will come out of the ship and stand on the soil of Earth, the first humans to do so in forty million years. Are you telling me that you mean to deprive us all of thatadventure?"
Elemak was silent; so was Mebbekew. But Nafai knew what was passing through their minds. A grim resolve to back down now, but at the first opportunity knock him unconscious, slit his throat, and throw his body in the sea.
It would not do. They had to be convinced of the futility of resistance. They had to stop their plotting and concentrate their efforts on making the ship spaceworthy.
"Don't you see that you can't kill me, even though at this very moment, Elemak, you're imagining slitting my throat and throwing my body into the sea?"
Elemak's rage and fear redoubled within him. Nafai could feel it, striking at him in waves.
"Don't you see that already the Oversoul is healing the wounds in my throat, in my chest?"
"If they were real wounds at all!" cried Meb. Poor Meb, who still thought that Elemak's original lie might be revived.
In answer, Nafai plunged his finger into the wound in his own throat. Because the scar tissue was already forming, his finger had to tear its way in—but no one could miss the fact that Nafai's finger was into the wound nearly to the third knuckle. A couple of people gagged; the rest gasped or moaned or cried out in sympathetic pain. And, in truth, the pain was considerable—worse as he pulled his finger out than when he plunged it in. I must learn to avoid theatrical gestures like that, thought Nafai.
He held up his bloody finger. "I forgive you for this, Elemak," said Nafai. "I forgive you, Mebbekew. If I have your solemn oath to help me and the Oversoul as we build a good ship."
It was too much for Elemak. The humiliation was far worse now than it had been in the desert eight years before. It could not be contained. There was nothing in his heart but murderous rage. He cared not at all now what others thought—he knew he had already lost their good opinion anyway. He knew he had lost his wife and his children—what was left? The only thing that could heal any part of the agony he felt inside was to kill Nafai, to drag him to the sea and plunge him in until he stopped kicking and struggling. Then let the others do what they wanted—Elemak would be content, as long as Nafai was dead.
Elemak took a step toward Nafai. Then another.
"Stop him," said Luet. But no one got in his way. No one dared—the look on Elemak's face was too terrible.
Mebbekew smiled and fell in step beside Elemak.
"Don't touch me," said Nafai. "The power of the Oversoul is in me like fire. I'm weak right now, from the wounds you gave me—I may not have the strength to control the power I have. If you touch me, I think you'll die."
He spo
ke with such simplicity that his words had the plain force of truth. He could feel something crumble inside Elemak. Not that the rage had died; what broke in him was that part of him that could not bear to be afraid. And when that barrier was gone, all the rage turned back into what it had really been all along: fear. Fear that he would lose his place to his younger brother. Fear that people would look at him and see weakness instead of strength. Fear that people wouldn't love him. Above all, fear that he really had no control over anything or anybody in the world. And now, all those fears that he had long hidden from himself were turned loose within him—and they had all, all of them, come true. He had lost his place. He looked weak to everyone, even his children. No one here could love him now. And he had no control at all, not even enough control to kill this boy who had supplanted him.
With Elemak no longer moving forward, Meb, too, stopped—always the opportunist, he seemed to have no will of his own. But Nafai well knew that Meb was less broken in spirit than Elemak. He would go on plotting and sneaking, and with Elemak out of the picture, there would be nothing to restrain him.
It was clear to Nafai, therefore, that he had not yet won. He had to demonstrate clearly, unforgettably, to Meb and Elemak and to all the others, that this was not just a struggle between brothers, that in fact it was the Oversoul who had overcome Elemak and Meb, not Nafai at all. And in the back of his mind, Nafai clung to this hope: that if Elya and Meb could come to understand that it was the Oversoul who broke them today, they might eventually forgive Nafai himself, and be his true brothers again.
Enough power to shock them, said Nafai silently. Not to kill.
(As you intend, the cloak will act.)
Nafai held out his hand. He could see the sparking himself, but it was far more imposing when he saw through the eyes of others. By accessing the Oversoul he could see dozens of views of himself at once, his face a-dazzle with dancing light, growing brighter and brighter. And his hand, alive with light as if a thousand fireflies had swarmed around it. He pointed his finger at Elemak, and an arc of fire like lightning leapt from his fingertip, striking Elemak in the head.
Elya's body spasmed brutally and he was flung to the ground.
Have I killed him? cried Nafai in silent anguish.
(Just shocked him. Have a little trust in me, will you?)
Sure enough, Elemak was moving now, writhing and jerking on the ground. So Nafai extended his hand toward Meb.
"No!" cried Mebbekew. Having seen what happened to Elemak, he wanted no part of it. But Nafai could see that in his heart, he was still plotting and scheming. "I promise, I'll do whatever you want! I never wanted to help Elemak anyway, he just kept pushing me and pushing me."
"Meb, you're such a fool. Do you think I don't know that it was Elemak who stopped you from murdering me in the desert, when I stopped you from killing a baboon?"
Meb's face became a mask of guilty fear. For the first time in his life, Mebbekew had come face to face with one of his own secrets, one that he thought no one could know; there'd be no escaping from the consequences now. "I have children!" cried Mebbekew. "Don't kill me!"
The arc of lightning again crackled through the air, connecting with Meb's head and knocking him to the ground.
Nafai was exhausted. He could barely stand. Luet, help me, he said silently, urgently.
He felt her hands on his arm, holding him up. She must have climbed into the paritka beside him.
Ah, Luet, this is how it should always be. I can never stand without you beside me. If you're not part of this I can't do it at all.
In answer, all he could feel from her was her love for him, her vast relief that the danger was over, her pride at the strength he had shown.
How can you be so forgiving? he asked her silently.
I love youwas the only message for him that he could find in her heart.
Nafai decided that the paritka should settle to the ground, and so it did. Luet helped him step from it, and with their children swarming around him, she led him back to the house. Over the next few minutes, all the others came to the house to see if they could help. But all he needed was to sleep. "Look after the others," he whispered. "I'm worried that the damage might be permanent."
When he awoke, it was near dusk. Zdorab was in their kitchen, cooking; Issib, Hushidh, Shedemei, and Luet were gathered around his bed. They weren't looking at him… they were talking among themselves. He listened.
They spoke of how sorry they felt for Eiadh and Dol, and for their children. Especially Proya, who lived for the pride he felt in his father, Elemak. "He looked as if he had just seen his father die," said Luet.
"He did," said Hushidh. "At least, it was the death of the father that he knew."
"The damage from this day will be a long time healing," said Shedemei.
"Was it damage?" said Luet. "Or the beginning of the process of healing wounds that we had only ignored for the past eight years?"
Hushidh clucked her tongue. "Nafai would be the first to tell you that what happened today wasn't healing, it was war. The Oversoul got her way today—the starship will be outfitted, and Elemak and Mebbekew will work as hard as anyone, when they recover from this. But the damage was permanent. Elemak and Mebbekew will always see Nafai as their enemy. And anyone who serves Nafai."
"Nobody serves Nafai," said Luet. "We only serve the Oversoul, as Nafai himself does."
"Yes," Shedemei agreed quickly. "We all understand that, Luet. This wasn't Nafai's battle, it was the Oversoul's. It might have been any of us with the cloak."
Nafai noticed that, however close she might come to the edge, this time Shedemei wasn't telling that she was the one who would have had the cloak if Nafai had refused it. She would keep that now as private knowledge, between her and Zdorab. Elemak and Mebbekew, Vas and Obring—they weren't likely to tell anybody, if they had even understood what she told them last night. She would always know that she was the Oversoul's next choice for the leadership of the colony—that was enough for her, she was content.
"He's awake," said Luet.
"How do you know?" asked Issib.
"His breathing changed."
"I'm awake," said Nafai.
"How are you?" asked Luet.
"Still tired. But better. In fact, good. In fact, not even tired." He propped himself up onto one elbow, and at once felt a little light-headed. "On second thought, definitely still tired." He lay back down.
The others laughed.
"How are Elya and Meb?"
"Sleeping it off, same as you," said Shedemei.
"And who has your children?" Nafai asked them.
"Mother," said Issib.
"Lady Rasa," said Shedemei. "Zdorab decided you'd want real food when you woke up, so he came over and cooked."
"Nonsense," said Luet. "He just knew how worried I'd be and didn't want me to have to worry about cooking. You haven't asked about our children."
"Actually, I don't have to ask about anybody's children," he said. "I know where they are."
There was nothing they could say to that. Soon they brought food in to him, and they all ate together, gathered around the bed. Nafai explained to them what kind of work would be required at the starship, and they began to think through the division of labor. They didn't talk long, though, because Nafai was clearly exhausted—in body, if not in mind. Soon they were gone, even Luet; but Luet returned soon with the children, who came in and embraced their father. Chveya especially clung to him. "Papa," she said, "I heard your voice in my heart."
"Yes," he said. "But that's really the voice of the Oversoul."
"It was your voice, when you thought you were dying," she said. "You were standing on a hill, about to run down and throw yourself through an invisible wall. And you shouted to me, Veya, I love you."
"Yes," he said. "That was my voice, after all."
"I love you too, Papa," she said.
He slept again.
And woke in the middle of the night, hearing a breeze from the se
a as it played through the thatch of the roof. He felt strong again, strong enough to rise up into the wind and fly.
Instead he reached out and touched Luet, gathered her to him. She woke sleepily, and did not protest. Rather she snuggled closer. She was willing to make love, if he had wanted to. But all he wanted tonight was to touch her, to hold her. To share the dancing light of the cloak with her, so she could also remember all the things that he remembered from the mind of the Oversoul. So she could see into his heart as clearly as he saw into hers, and know his love for her as surely as he knew her love for him.
The light from the cloak grew and brightened. He kissed her forehead, and when his lips came away, he could see that a faint light also sparked on her. It will grow, he knew. It will grow until there is no difference between us. Let there be no barrier between us, Luet, my love. I never want to be alone again.
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THE SHIPS OF EARTH Page 36
