"Two sleep in the craft outside," he replied after a pause. "They still fear Earth's nights." She caught a faint mental whisper before he again closed his mind; the others, bewildered by the approaching death of a villager, had fled to the comet three days earlier. Jerod had known Cerwen, yet he had not gone to say farewell to him. The skydweller had not even comforted his old friend Lydee. But Anra could understand his actions. She had struggled against Cerwen's death; for skydwellers, who were used to living as long as they chose, such a death was even harder to accept.
"I have been quite distracted," Etey said. "I did want to contribute a few notions for the design of the new comet world. Homesmind's robotic minions have been so busy." She picked up a bowl and offered it to Anra, who selected one delicacy, gazed at the tiny, frosted square uncertainly, then popped it into her mouth. Its sweetness was cloying. She washed it down with some wine and almost wiped her mouth on her sleeve; Kemie pursed her lips disapprovingly. Anra let her arm drop. Kemie tilted her blond head; her pale, yellowish eyes were searching Anra's face as if she did not know what to make of the Earthgirl.
"Daiya and Reiho will be happy to see you," Anra said.
"I should have spoken to them through Homesmind more often, I know." Etey selected a piece of food, then set the bowl down. "They'll find my mindspeech lacking since my absence, and when I left here to return to the Wanderer, everyone there found me so rough."
"Not rough," Kemie said. "Only very brisk, and sometimes too forceful."
"Well," Etey said, "I shall now have to adjust all over again and must polish my mindspeech. And what have you been doing, Anra?"
"Not very much. Reiho finally taught me to read. Daiya still refuses to learn—she says that the Minds can tell her and show her what she needs to know." She wanted to speak of Cerwen but was afraid she might begin to cry. She swallowed. Etey probably already knew of his fate, though she had not returned in time to see him.
"You seem to be going on a journey." Etey glanced toward the pack.
"I'm going to the foothills near the mountains for a while. I was just on my way when Jerod greeted me."
"The mountains!" Kemie said. Chilon's eyebrows rose. "In the night?" She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "You're very brave."
"Not really. I've been there before. You just have to keep your mind open and alert to danger."
"But there are creatures,'" Tuela said.
"Oh, maybe a bear, or wolves. But they usually don't go too near the mountains." The wine had loosened her tongue; she had a sudden urge to poke a little fun at Jerod's companions. "The most I might have to worry about is a bobcat, and I'll sense if one is near, but they're afraid of people. Unless, of course, they have a cub— they can get vicious then. Anyway, I doubt I'll see any wolves, either. They'd rather stay near where there's prey to be found, a stray sheep, for instance, so they'd be closer to a village."
Kemie's mouth dropped open; her fingers gripped her goblet tightly.
"Wolves don't care for people," Etey said quickly to her friend. "They won't get close to us. And the village's watchfires will keep them away-" Kemie was staring at the knife Anra wore; she did not seem reassured.
Anra began to regret her words. "Ktey is right," she said. "Don't worry about the wolves. I shouldn't have teased you. If you walked with one of us, you'd learn about wild things and how to protect yourself." Many of the villagers had offered to show the cometfolk the land around the village, but the skydwellers had always refused such offers. "Don't forget, you can call on the power of the Minds here. You could come to the foothills with me sometime, if you like."
"So you are embarking on an adventure, then," Jerod murmured.
"Not really. I need to be alone, to think." She would say no more; skydwellers shied away from discussions too revealing of their feelings.
"How interesting." Jerod glanced at his friends. "It's a long way on foot. I'll take you there in a shuttle, if you like."
Anra shook her head. "I don't mind the walk, and I can fly part of the way."
"At least take some food," Chilon said, waving a bowl. "Or some wine." The others began to urge food on her; Tuela summoned a silver globe from the shadows. The globe floated toward her, bearing a few small packages on a tray.
"My load's heavy enough," Anra said, but she took the food anyway. Rising, she went to her pack, opened it, dropped the silvery packages inside, then hoisted the pack to her back. "Thank you."
Etey suddenly stood up. "I'll walk with you for a bit, if you don't mind." Kemie gasped, clearly appalled at Etey's rashness.
"Please do." Anra tied the pack's ropes across her chest. "Good-bye."
Everyone grinned and nodded. "I shall look forward to seeing you again soon," Jerod called out.
Etey was silent as they walked east toward the high grass of the plain. On Anra's left, a small watchfire was flickering in the distance; the shadowy, indistinct shapes of three villagers crouched near the flames.
"So you are seeking some solitude," Etey said at last.
"Daiya suggested it. She knew that I needed to get away from the village now. E very where I go, I'm reminded of Cerwen. I can't believe he's gone. I keep expecting to see him in the public space with his friends or teaching mindcraft to the children, or to find him at our hut for supper."
Etey's mind was open now; Anra caught a faint trace of compassion. "I should have come back earlier, I know," Etey said in Earth's language. "Forgive my lapse. I suppose I thought that if I didn't witness that event, then Cerwen would still seem alive to me."
Anra nodded, understanding.
"He was a remarkable man. He lost so much, yet he didn't give in to despair. I had hoped he might decide to live, but I suspected that there was too much of Earth's way in him for that. I came to admire him. We rarely agreed on anything, but that's not important," Etey said.
"Not a single one of your people came to see him except for Reiho."
"I know. You must try to forgive that, Anra. You see us here, and we seem weak. Here, we're outside the environment we were bred for and to which we've adapted." She laughed softly. "We have crossed space on the Wanderer, yet my friends are incapable of walking with you in the dark." She paused. "There's another reason I didn't return to Earth right away. It seems that Homesmind has sensed the presence of another wanderer far from here, and has grown curious."
Anra looked up at the sky, wondering why Homesmind had not mentioned that to her. The moon's crescent hung overhead; the two comets were streaks of light.
"It's not yet visible from this world," Etey said, "but Homesmind's telescopic eyes can see it dimly. Homesmind has called to it, but it doesn't answer. It sent a probe some time ago, but the probe has been swallowed, and I don't know what that might mean. That other comet is traveling toward us at great speed, but it might still bypass Earth and only skirt the outer planets of this system. The comet is apparently quite large as well. Homesmind is puzzled. Usually comet worlds will speak to one another in some fashion if they meet."
Anra shivered. "You're afraid."
"Apprehensive, perhaps. Shall we mindspeak?"
"If you wish."
Strands of Etey's mind brushed against hers; she felt the woman's cold, clear thoughts. This was an aspect of the cometdwellers she could admire; her own mind seemed muddy and swamplike in comparison.
—I'm trying not to worry— Etey thought; her mind-speech was more awkward than Anra remembered. —Other comet worlds have diverged so much from us that often only limited communication has been possible. But Homesmind has sensed that this visitor is unlike any It has touched before. It wonders why the mind of that world has not reached out in some way, if only to indicate that it wishes no communication with us—
—Maybe it sleeps— Anra said.
—Homesmind should have been able to awaken it. Now you know what has delayed my return. I've been preoccupied—
Anra adjusted her pack, suspecting that Etey had mentioned the matter partly to take he
r mind off Cerwen's death. —I'm happy you're back, Etey—
—It's odd. Sometimes I feel more at home here than on the Wanderer. I'm an outsider there, too affected by Earth to fit in easily. Often my former life seems meaningless, yet it wasn't when I was leading it. The rules of the game have changed— Etey halted. —I may return to a hut in the village for a time. If you wish, you may stay with me. You needn't agree now ... just consider my offer—
—I shall. It's time for me to leave Daiya's hut—
—I'd better return to my friends before they begin to think a wild creature has made me its victim. Farewell, Anra— Etey gripped her arm for a moment.
—Farewell—
THREE
By morning, the air had turned cooler. Anra awoke with stiff muscles, regretting that she had not asked Jerod for one of the skydwellers' silver blankets. She stretched, then summoned her mindpowers, focusing on each ache inside her body until the pain was gone. Her banked fire was nearly out. She doused the charred wood with water, then covered it with dirt.
After rummaging in her pack, she took out a piece of dried meat and one of the packages Jerod's friends had given her. The meat was tough and salty; the skydweller food tasted of nuts and fruit. She washed it all down with water and refilled her waterskin at the brook near which she had slept.
She had flown part of the way into the foothills, but it had taken her nearly half the night to get this far. She yawned, still feeling tired. The sheer, barren cliffs of the mountains loomed above her. She had been in the foothills several times, but had never stood on the mountains themselves or seen the desert on the other side.
Her mind was still clinging to the tenuous strands of the village's Net; a small tug could summon her home. She sighed. Her grief over Cerwen's death, which had once throbbed inside her chest, was now a weight pressing against her. She would carry that weight over the mountains and rid herself of it on the other side. She would keep her promise to Cerwen, and mourn no more.
Opening her channel, she let the power of the Minds under the mountains flow into her, then lifted herself toward the peaks, floating up almost effortlessly. A recess in the rocks caught her eye; she landed there to rest a moment. The Minds could give her all the energy she needed, but there were limits on how much she could use at one time; her body imposed its own boundaries.
/Greetings, small mind/ the Minds whispered, then paused. There was an unfamiliar quality in Their tone, as if she had distracted Them from more important concerns. To Them, she was no more than a wisp of consciousness, hardly enough to disturb Them.
She floated up again, feeling that somehow she was being drawn toward the desert. Were the Minds pulling her there? Dimly, she felt an answering assent. /Another small mind is not far away/ the Minds murmured. She frowned. That voice had had a plaintive tone; she had even sensed some sorrow.
She was now near a peak. She landed, and the wind ruffled her hair. The desert was below her now, stretching to the east. She peered out, trying to discern a sign of life, and saw only a few prickly plants scattered over the desolate land. Taking a breath, she leaped out from the mountain and fell toward the sandy ground below, cupping one hand around her eyes to protect them. The air became a cushion underneath her. She stumbled a bit as she landed.
The desert reached to the horizon; the barren land rippled, distorted by the hot air. Anra pulled up the hood of her tunic and sat down to rest.
The sun had grown even warmer. Anra had waited, but whatever presence the Minds had sensed was still far away. She rose, adjusting her pack.
Once, the village had sent its young people out here to undergo what was called an ordeal. A small group of young people would travel to the desert; the Net of the village would then be taken from them while they were left to face the dark monsters their own fears would form.
Many had died during those ordeals; those left alive had returned to the village to assume the duties of adults. Only those capable of conquering their fears were able to survive. Those who lashed out in terror or who fled from the beast died, never realizing that their own fear had killed them and that the beast was inside their minds. It was a cruel custom, but one that had seemed necessary; those too rash or fearful would have wounded or divided a community with their uncontrollable thoughts.
Daiya had passed through such an ordeal herself, but the village had not imposed the rite on Anra and her friends, feeling that greater knowledge and understanding would impose their own restraints; they had also felt that life would have ordeals enough. Now Anra wondered if they might have been wrong. Daiya was aware both of her strength and of her limitations; Anra feared that she was not as strong as her aunt. Many villages, she knew, still practiced the custom of ordeals, though Lydee and her companions had tried to discourage it.
The sky was a painful blue. She walked alongside the mountains, looking for shade, then noticed a cave overhead. Daiya had shown her that cave in her memories; it led inside the mountains to the hidden pillars below. Daiya had sometimes gone there to commune with the Minds when she was young, but had neglected the cave since then. Anra turned east for a moment, then froze.
Something was moving on the horizon. Black specks circled above the distant ground; below them, a tiny figure swayed. The figure suddenly shrank, becoming a small, dark mound on the sand; the specks hovered, dropping lower. Anra continued to stare for a few moments until she realized what she was seeing.
She ran, lifting herself from the ground as she hurtled east. She might be in danger. This person could not be a skydweller; no skydweller would wander so far alone, without a shuttle. That meant the person had to be from another village, and she could not know how such a person would react to her. She shook off her fears as she flew. The stranger would be too weak to harm her.
She cried out at the large, black birds, scattering them as she approached. Warding them off with her thoughts, she landed next to the body as the birds fled.
She knelt, put her hand on the body's leather-clad shoulder, then turned it over gently on its side. The chest moved slightly; she felt an unconscious mind too weak to notice her presence, its thoughts nearly too faint to be heard. Carefully, she pulled back the hood a little and saw a boy's face. His skin was red and raw, his lips dried and cracked.
Pulling off her pack, she took out a water skin, poured a little water on her hand, then brushed it against the chapped lips. The boy moaned. She reached out with her mind, trying to revive him. His swollen lids opened a little; hazel eyes gazed up at her blankly.
She held the skin to his lips, allowing him only a sip, then crouched over his upper body, shielding him from the sun. How had he come here? Why was he alone in the desert? His mind was too weak to answer. She offered him more water, drawing the skin away after he had swallowed twice.
Slipping the pack under his head, she sat with him, shading him as much as she could. He was very weak; had a few more hours passed, she might not have been able to revive him. Even now, part of him was seeking to escape into death, longing for oblivion. She clung to his thoughts, willing him to live, then peered at him more closely. A knife, tucked into his belt, was all he carried— no food, no water.
At last he stirred; one hand fluttered feebly. She gave him a little more water. His thoughts were a bit stronger now; she would have to move him out of the sun.
—Can you hold on to me?— she asked. —Do you have the strength?—
—I think so— he answered faintly.
—I'm going to take you to the mountains— She slid the pack out and put it on, then draped one of his arms over her while holding him around the waist. Even in this state, he was sturdy and muscular; to lift him, she would need all the power the Minds could feed her. Gripping him tightly, she floated off the ground. She would take him to the cave she had seen. He was still resisting her, as if he did not want to be saved.
Anra sat in the mouth of the cave. The sun was behind the mountains; the desert land below was cloaked in long, violet shadows. The b
oy was still sleeping; he had managed to swallow more water before pillowing his head on her pack. The air was growing cold, and she rubbed her hands, longing for a fire.
The boy moved, then sat up slowly, resting his back against the cave wall. "Water," he said aloud.
She handed him the half-full skin; she had been giving him a little water each time he stirred. He grabbed it, took one gulp, then handed it back.
"Can you eat?" she asked.
"I think so." He spoke with an accent, biting off the ends of his words.
She searched through her pack, deciding that skydweller food might be easier for him to digest. Taking out a silver package, she began to peel away its covering.
"What is that?" the boy asked.
"Food."
He surveyed it suspiciously as he took it, then nibbled around the edges of the large, flat wafer. "I've never tasted anything like this before."
"It will give you strength."
His nose wrinkled, but he finished it, accepted another wafer, and drank more water. His hood had fallen from his head; his matted blond hair curled around his face and over the back of his neck. He toyed with the silver wrapping, twisting it with his fingers.
Anra chewed some dried fruit, following it with wine. "What is this?" the boy said as he handed her his wrapping.
"Only a covering for food."
The boy closed his eyes for a moment. "You are one of them, then."
"One of whom?" His mind was closed and she was afraid to touch it, worried that she might frighten him.
"One of those who consorts with the heavendwellers. There's a tiny, pulsing light inside you—it's part of your mind, yet apart from it also. I felt it before I closed my mind."
He had to be thinking of her implant. She sat very still, wondering what he would do. ,
"You needn't fear me," the boy went on. "You've saved my life. I should be grateful, but my life was over before you found me."
"Why were you out in the desert?"
Homesmind Page 4
