Anra went outside with her aunt, followed by Marellon and Luret. Lydee's shuttle was standing in the road. Lydee motioned her two friends inside, then led Anra to the side of the craft as its door closed behind the pair.
"Maybe I was too hard with Marellon," Anra said. "Sometimes I've thought we should go to the skydwellers' world."
"No. You were right to show him your thoughts." Lydee sat down next to the shuttle's runners. "You saw how his words hurt Daiya. Many whom she loved died during the time of discord here before you were born. Our own parents were lost—our father Brun and our mother Anra, the one for whom you were named." Anra seated herself. "When she hears someone speak of running away, she thinks of them, and wonders if they died for no reason."
"I know."
"You and I have held similar thoughts. I was born here, and I've lived here for more than fifteen years since my return, and yet I find myself raging at Earth's obstinacy. I didn't want to see Cerwen die. I wanted to force him to live."
Anra swallowed.
"But skydwellers are obstinate as well. Many want to forget Earth and return to roaming among the stars." Lydee averted her brown eyes. "I was afraid to come back to the village this time, because I knew Cerwen would not choose to live and I wanted to hide from his death. Other cometdwellers came to know him and yet not one, except for Reiho, came to his side." She sighed. "I've seen death, I've seen birth. I have to dampen my dreams or the blood would drown me. I reek of this world's dirt. But you give me some hope, Anra. You can look to both cometdwellers and Earthfolk, see the good and the bad, take what you need from both peoples. That will make you stronger than either."
The words, which reminded Anra of the promise she had made to Cerwen, were disturbing. How would she ever keep such a promise? She had little strength to draw on.
"Maybe I should travel with you," Anra said. "My friends and I will have to learn how to reach out to the rest of Earth."
"Yes, you should. But my sister will need your comfort now. Perhaps next time. 'Lydee paused. "I may be stopping at a mountain village to the west on my way back. Silla has called to me through the Minds. She also needs comfort after our grandfather's death."
Anra tensed. "She could have come here."
"It's been a long time. She knew she could do nothing for Cerwen. And it would be hard for her to see you. You've never called out to her or to your father."
"They left me, didn't they?"
"They did what they thought they had to do. They had their reasons for leaving. Maybe they would have returned if they had thought you would welcome them."
"Well, I wouldn't." Anra kept her thoughts still, walling in her resentment. Her parents had known that she would be cared for; she had tried to understand their actions, but the pain of abandonment had still remained. It would be better not to reach out to two people who would only be strangers and who might reject what she had become.
Lydee stood up. "My parents wished for my death before Daiya gave me to the skydwellers. At least yours wanted you to live." She put a hand on the shuttle; the door opened. "Farewell, Anra."
Anra's friends had brought five of the younger children down to the river that ran past the village. The young ones were playing in the shallows; one boy lifted the water with his mind. A wave hung over him, then collapsed, drenching the boy, who squealed happily. One little girl began to paddle out toward deeper waters; Fiella caught her with strands of thought, keeping the child afloat as she drew her closer to shore.
—I spoke to Luret this morning— Fiella said. —She asked me if I might want to travel with her and Wiland sometime—
—I'd like to travel— Gennon thought. The brown-haired boy was sitting next to Paeter, who was mending a rip in a shirt with a bone needle. —Nothing ever happens here— Paeter bit off his thread and pulled on his cream-colored shirt.
Barla was standing in the water, pants rolled up to her knees as she watched the small children play. One blond girl splashed over to her. Barla picked up the naked child, wincing as the little girl pulled at her long, light brown locks.
Paeter stood up. —Mila's calling me—
Anra turned. Mila StenaFiel, Paeter's guardian, was walking along the bank toward them; the tall, handsome woman beckoned to the boy. Paeter picked up his bucket of water, peered inside at the fish he had caught earlier, then motioned to a small, chubby girl. —Naise— he called. —Time to go home—
Naise waded to the bank, picked up her tunic, and stumbled toward Paeter on stubby legs. Paeter knelt as Naise climbed onto his back.
Anra watched as they left with Mila. For the first time, she noticed how gray Mila's hair had grown. The tall woman's body was still strong, her face almost unlined, but she was aging. Anra shivered; she was seeing signs of age everywhere now.
Barla waved as she left the water and walked toward the huts, her foster brother and sister trailing her. She picked the two up with her mind; the children giggled as they floated over the ground. Gennon got up, summoning the two little boys who were left. —I'd like to see other places— he thought. —I might even want to go up there for a while— He glanced up at the sky.
—You might not come back— Fiella said.
Gennon shook his head; his long brown hair swayed. —Of course I would—
—You might not— the girl responded. —You know how few of them come here. Skydwellers can dream and soothe themselves with their potions and devices and make a game of life. They can look at this world through Homesmind's eyes and feel as though they're here, so why should they travel to Earth? You might do the same, Gennon. You might find their world so pleasant that you wouldn't want to leave. Every time you felt a longing for the village, you could dream of it—
—That sort of dreaming isn't for us— Gennon said. Anra nodded in agreement. Skydwellers could control their dreaming, but Earthfolk, used to a harder life, might find the dreams a seductive escape. The villagers had always avoided such a pursuit, afraid that it might weaken them, and Anra had often thought that even the skydwellers might have been stronger without the dreams.
Gennon rose. Taking the two little boys by their hands, he strolled slowly up the bank toward his own hut.
—Maybe we could travel together— Fiella said as she stood up. —Lydee's taught you how to pilot her craft and Luret could show me—
—It's easy enough to learn— Anra said. —A craft pilots itself most of the time. Maybe if we began to bring solitaries back here ourselves, Luret and Wiland could stay here for a while without wandering. I know how much they'd like to raise their own children—
—I don't know. There's something in my sister's mind that drives her. I sometimes think she would keep wandering as long as she thought that there was even one person who might need her— Fiella's thoughts were still for a moment. —Luret told me that Lydee wept after Cerwen died. She saw two tears on her face—
Anra was surprised. She had thought that Lydee was still too much of a skydweller to weep. —I know why she wept, then. Cerwen thinks he'll live on in another life— She paused as she stood up; she was speaking of the old man as if he still lived. "Lydee knows he won't." As she spoke out loud, she began to mask her thoughts.
"You don't have to hide your thoughts from me," Fiella said as they walked up the bank toward the huts. "I also doubt. The skydwellers have traveled the heavens and have found no sign of God, the Merged One."
"The heavens are so vast that God could hide in them. All of the sky might only be a dream in the mind of the Merged One." Anra was echoing Cerwen's assertions. "But I don't doubt for your reasons. It's because of what happens when people cling to such things. The old ones here are kind, but in the time before the skydwellers came, they put their solitary children to death because they believed they had no souls. And they struck out at the skydwellers because their beliefs told them that such people had to be evil. I'd rather believe in nothing than in One Who could allow that."
"And yet the old ones gain comfort from their faith."
—Yes— Anra said, mindspeaking again. —And many other Earthfolk still believe that God must have worked through people when the Minds were built, that we could not have created Them by ourselves. If they could shed such beliefs, Earth might change. They'd understand that we have the power to do more than they realize—
—Perhaps— Fiella said. —But until the old ones everywhere die, many will hide their doubts. I know you mourn your great-grandfather, but a part of you knows that his passing was for the best. Cerwen knew it, too. Daiya told my mother that Cerwen spoke of a cycle drawing to an end, and they wondered what he could have meant. Well, I know. Cerwen knew his world was ending and that it had to end. He chose to die before it did—
Anra withdrew from her friend's thoughts. Fiella's musings had eased her grief a little. Fiella touched her arm, then turned toward the path leading to her own hut.
Anra walked on alone. The babbling of the children she passed seemed muffled; the odors of cooking food were thick and smoky. Her eyesight blurred and she squinted, repressing her tears. She suddenly wondered if Cerwen had touched her hidden thoughts, if without her knowing it he had sensed that she believed his death was necessary.
As she came to her own hut, she heard a small, childish voice, then an answering croon from Daiya. She hurried inside.
Reiho had laid out a meal of protein cakes and other skydweller foods; a vegetable soup was bubbling in a pot over the fire. Daiya sat on the floor, playing with a small, black-haired child.
"Chal," Anra said aloud.
"Aah!" the little boy answered, looking up at her with almond-shaped eyes that resembled Reiho's. His thoughts, in spite of his implant, were confused babblings; he was too young to know how to direct them.
"Say 'Anra,' " Daiya said aloud.
"Ana!"
Anra sat down as Daiya carried the toddler to the table. Reiho began to ladle out soup. Chal gurgled as Anra read her aunt's thoughts. Leito, who had cared for Chal ever since he had been brought to the village, had left him there that afternoon.
"You're visiting again," Anra said to the boy.
Daiya shook her head. —No, he's staying this time— Reiho set bowls on the table; Daiya began to feed the child with a wooden spoon.
—But why?— Anra asked, though she was already sensing the answer.
—Leito is old. She knows her time may come soon, and she felt that Chal should be with us. She'll still see him every day, but if he gets used to living here, he won't feel her loss as much when she's gone—
—But Leito's not ill—
—She's very old. She has to think of dial's welfare. Deene and Vasen would have taken him, but they're caring for one child already, and they no longer have the strength to care for two—
Anra gazed at the boy sadly; so Leito was already preparing for death. She patted the child on the head, trying to cheer him with warm thoughts, but he was sensing her sorrow as well, and began to whimper. "I'll have a foster brother, then," she said aloud.
Daiya smiled. "I've seen your thoughts during these past days," she murmured. "You felt that we especially needed you now, and perhaps we did. But mourning has to end. You have your own life to consider. You've lived for fifteen cycles of the seasons. In the old times, at your age, we were ready to leave our parents' huts then, to choose a partner or to live with friends until a partner was found. You're free to do that, if you wish."
"She's still young," Reiho objected.
"On your world, not ours. She's a young woman now."
"I was afraid to ask," Anra said. "I thought it might be too soon after ..." She shielded her thoughts, not wanting Chal to cry again, and noticed that Daiya and Reiho were shielding theirs as well. The boy hummed to himself, no longer sensing their unhappiness, then swallowed another spoonful of soup.
"You'll still be in the village," Daiya said. "We'll be here if you need us."
Anra sipped some soup, then nibbled at a protein cake. Cerwen had come here often when she was younger; he had sat next to her at this table. Everything in the hut reminded her of him; she looked up, almost expecting to see him in the doorway.
Daiya touched her thoughts gently. "When I was younger," she said aloud, "I often went into the desert beyond the mountains to clear my mind, to hear my own thoughts apart from the murmurings of others. Maybe you should do the same, Anra. You might need such a period of solitude now."
Anra looked up. "Do you think so?"
"It might help. You could carry your grief with you and leave it behind when you return, heal yourself."
"I could go with you," Reiho said.
Anra shook her head. "You should stay with Daiya and Chal." She rose. "I'll have to make other journeys someday, so maybe this one will prepare me. I'd better get ready."
"But it's almost night."
"I should go now. If I wait, I might be afraid to go." She had only gone as far as the foothills before, and always with friends. Crossing the room, she took a water jug from one shelf, opened it, and began to fill a skin. Reiho came to her side and put some supplies into a pack, then handed it to her; she added two skins of wine before hoisting the pack to her back. Reiho tugged at the ropes, tying them across her chest. The pack felt heavier than she had expected. She hesitated, then tucked her knife into her belt.
"Are you sure you should go alone?" Reiho asked. "I could take you there in a shuttle."
"The walk will do me good." She went to Daiya and kissed her aunt on the cheek. Reiho could never give the woman a child of her own, and perhaps Chal would now fill the gap Anra would leave in her aunt's life.
"Don't stay away too long," Daiya said. "If you need us, call to us through the Minds."
She walked south through a field of wheat, not wanting to pass near Cerwen's grave. Light glowed at the edge of the field. A large tent had been pitched; shadows flitted along its sides. Near the tent, three shuttlecraft stood in a row; only two had been there yesterday. She was about to turn east, toward the mountains, when the tent flap was lifted.
"Anra!" Jerod called out. The bald man had shed his silver suit and wore only a white loincloth and belt; a bracelet of colored gems glittered on his wrist. "Do come in. An old friend of yours has returned." He spoke in the skydwellers' slurred, melodic tongue, giving each word a lilting flourish.
She was about to refuse, then changed her mind. Jerod, at least, would not probe her mind. Even the skydwellers who had visited Earth frequently kept most of their thoughts to themselves.
Jerod held the flap open as she entered, then let it fall. Anra slipped off her pack, dropping it to the ground. The tent was filled with a soft, rosy light. Two women and a man were reclining on red cushions; a silver platform in front of them held crystal flagons and silver bowls filled with various foods.
At least they were not dreaming. Anra hated to see skydwellers dreaming, losing themselves in the vivid images and sensations provided by their links. She had once asked Homesmind why It allowed such dreaming, and It had argued that dreaming was no worse than wine or games. At any rate, the cometdwellers' Mind had little to say about the matter; Its people had created It and their directives had been built into Homesmind. The skydwellers' lives were so peaceful and pleasant that their escapes into dreams were only intermittent, but Anra had wondered what they might do if life became harder and more uncertain; dreaming might tempt them more then. One might lose a lifetime in a dream.
Jerod's three friends were wearing their protective silver suits, which clung to their bodies like skin; they were not as reckless as he. Anra gazed toward one corner; another woman sat there with a flat, rectangular reader on her lap.
The woman looked up and smiled. "Anra?" Her voice sounded uncertain. "You've grown." She drew her thin brows together. "Don't you remember me?"
"Of course I do, Etey." Anra was about to walk toward the woman, then halted, suddenly conscious of her worn, soiled tunic, her frayed pants, and the odors of dirt and sweat that still clung to her.
Etey rose an
d went to the group, settling herself on one cushion. "Sit down," she said, patting the cushion next to her. "You used to be such a chubby child, and now you're so slender. I thought you might be stocky, like your aunts." She said the last word in Earth's language, having no such expression in her own tongue.
Anra sat down. The blond woman next to Jerod wrinkled her nose.
Etey had not changed. Her short, frizzy red hair barely covered her skull; her brown, perfect face was unlined. Only her dark, tilted eyes betrayed her age; they were ancient eyes that gazed out calmly at the world.
"Etey would have come to see you immediately after her arrival," Jerod said as he draped an arm over his knee, "but she is in the process of readapting."
"You were away a long time," Anra said to Etey in the skydwellers' tongue. Her speech seemed dull and flat. Skydwellers often seemed to play with their words; one word, in their mouths, often seemed to mean many different things. She could never make their language sound quite as musical as the visitors did, and their closed minds could not sense the undercurrents of thought that might have lent her words more feeling. Even Jerod, who had sometimes mindspoken with her, was keeping his wall up.
"It hasn't been so long," Etey murmured.
"Nearly five years."
Etey's brown eyes widened. "Now that I see you, it seems it has been long." She stretched out a hand, accepting a goblet from the dark-haired man, and gave it to Anra.
Anra sipped. The wine tasted of fruit and another flavor she could not name.
"You know Chilon," Jerod said, gesturing at the dark-haired man, "and Tuela." Anra nodded, having met the two a couple of times before. Tuela smiled; even in this light, her black skin had a bluish sheen. "Our other friend is Kemie." The blond woman lowered her long lashes. "She came here with Etey—it's her first trip to this world."
"Where are your other friends?" Anra asked, regretting the question immediately when she saw the embarrassed look on Jerod's face. He bowed his head; metallic wires as thin as hairs gleamed on his bald skull.
Homesmind Page 3
