A World Divided (49 page)

He still got the splitting headaches when he was actually working with the screens—though now he could handle a shift in the relay nets unassisted—and the effort was tremendous, racking, each expenditure of psychic energy leaving him spent and drained, his body demanding enormous quantities of food and sleep.

He understood, now, the gargantuan appetites they all had—Elorie, for instance; he had been amused at her childlike greediness for sweets, and had been astonished at seeing so frail and dainty a little girl put away quantities of food that would have satiated a horse-drover. But now he realized that he was hungry all the time; his body, drained of energy, demanded replacements with ravenous hunger. And when the day’s work was completed—or called to a halt because Elorie could not endure any more of the strain—and Kerwin could rest, or when Taniquel had a little leisure to spend with him, he found that he could only fling himself down beside her and sleep.

“I’m afraid I’m not a very ardent lover,” he apologized once, half sick with chagrin; Taniquel close to him, loving and willing, but the only desire in his body was an exhausted hunger for sleep. Taniquel laughed softly, bending to kiss him.

“I know; I’ve been around matrix workers all my life, remember? It’s always that way when there’s work in hand—you have only so much energy, and it all goes into the work, and there’s nothing left. Don’t worry about it.” She laughed, a small mischievous chuckle. “When I was training at Neskaya, we used to test ourselves, sometimes, one of the men and I; we’d lie down together—and if either of us could even
think
of anything but sleep, we’d know we’d been cheating, not giving all we had to the matrix work!”

He felt a sudden inner storm of jealousy for the men she had known that way; but he was really too tired to care.

She stroked his hair. “Sleep,
bredu
—we’ll have time together when this is over, if you still want me.”

“
If
I still want you?” Kerwin sat upright, staring at the girl. She lay back on the pillow, her eyes closed, the freckles pale on her pixie face, her hair loosened, sunbright on the sheets. “What do you mean, Tani?”

“Oh, people change,” she said vaguely. “Never mind that now. Here—” She pulled him gently down, her light hands caressing his forehead. “Sleep, love; you’re worn out.”

Weary as he was, the words had driven sleep from his mind. How could Taniquel doubt—or was the girl in the grip of some premonition? Since they had been lovers, he had been happy; now, for the first time, disquiet moved in him, and he had a sudden mental flash of Taniquel, hand in hand with Auster, walking along the battlements at the tower. What had been between Taniquel and Auster?

He
knew
Taniquel cared for him in a way he had never guessed possible with any woman. They were in total harmony. He knew, now, why his casual affairs with women had never gone beneath the surface; the unrecognized telepathic sensitivity in him had picked up the fundamental shallowness of the kind of women he had known; he had chided himself for being an idealist, wanting more than any woman could give. Now he knew it was possible; his relationship with Taniquel had brought a whole dimension into focus; his first taste of shared passion and emotion, real intimacy. He
knew
Taniquel cared for him; could she possibly care for him so deeply, if she cared for someone else that way?

Many disquiets began to come into focus as he lay awake, his head throbbing, of course. Now it was clear to him; everyone in the Arilinn Tower knew they were lovers. Small things he had not noticed at the time, a smile from Kennard, a meaningful glance from Mesyr, even the small interchange with Neyrissa—
Are you jealous?
—now took on significance.

And I never realized; in a telepath culture they would take it for granted, there would be no such thing as privacy and I never understood ...
Suddenly the thought was violent, embarrassing: Telepaths all, were they reading his thoughts, his emotions, spying on what he had shared with Taniquel? Scalding embarrassment flooded him, as if he had had some shameful dream of walking naked in the public square and waked to find that it was true....

Taniquel drowsily holding his hand, curled against him, jerked awake as if touched by a live wire. Indignation flamed in her face.

“You—you
are
a barbarian,” she raged. “You—you
Terranan!
” She scrambled out of bed and caught up her dressing-gown; quickly she was gone, her light footsteps dying away with an angry pattering on the uneven floor. Kerwin, baffled at her sudden rage, lay with his head throbbing. He told himself that this would not do, he had work to do the next day, and lay down, trying hard to apply the techniques Neyrissa had taught him, relaxing his body, slowing his breathing to normal, trying to calm the tensions in his body by controlling his breath, to ease the blood pounding in his temples. But he was too confused and dismayed for much success.

But when they met again, she was gentle and affectionate as ever, greeting him with her spontaneous embrace. “Forgive me, Jeff, I shouldn’t have been angry. It was unfair of me. It’s not for me to blame you, that you’ve lived among the
Terranan
and picked up some their—their strange ways. You’ll come to understand us better, in time.”

And with the reassurance of her arms around him, her emotions meshing with his, he could not doubt the sincerity of her feelings.

Thirteen days after Hastur’s visit to Arilinn, the matrixes were prepared; and later that same day, in the great hall, Elorie told them, “We can begin the first surveying operation tonight.”

Kerwin felt last-minute panic. This would be his first experience in the prolonged rapport of a matrix circle.

“Why at night?” he asked.

It was Kennard who answered. “Most people sleep during the dark hours; we get less telepathic interference—in radio you’d call it static. There’s telepathic static, too.”

“I want all of you to get some sleep during the day,” Neyrissa said. “I want you all fresh and rested for tonight.”

Corus winked at Kerwin and said, “Better give Jeff a sedative; otherwise he’ll lie awake fretting.” But there was no malice in his words. Mesyr looked at him, questioningly.

“If you want something—”

He shook his head, feeling foolish. They talked a few minutes longer, then Elorie, yawning, said she was going to take her own advice, and went upstairs. One by one, they began to drift away from the fireside. Kerwin, not sleepy in spite of his weariness, waited, hoping Taniquel would join him. Perhaps, if she were with him, he might be able to forget the impending ordeal and relax.

“Neyrissa meant it, youngster,” said Kennard, pausing beside him. “The monitor’s word is law, in cases like this. Better get some rest, or tonight will be too much for you.”

A moment of silence; then Kennard’s heavy brows went into his hairline. “Oh,” he said, “it’s like that, is it?”

Kerwin exploded. “Damn it, is there no privacy at all here?”

Kennard looked at him with a wry, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m an Alton; we’re the strongest telepaths in the Comyn. And—well, I’ve lived on Terra; I married a Terran woman. So perhaps I understand more than some of the younger ones would. Don’t be offended, but—may I say something, as I would to—to a younger brother or a nephew?”

Touched against his will, Kerwin said, “Yes, of course.”

Kennard thought for a minute, then said, “Don’t blame Taniquel for leaving you alone just now, just when you feel that you need her most. I know how you feel—Zandru’s hells, how well I know!” He chuckled as if at some private joke. “But Tani knows, too. And when a matrix operation is in train, a big one like this especially, celibacy is the rule, and necessary. She knows better than to play around with that. For that matter, one of us should have talked to you about it before.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Kerwin said slowly, rebelling. “Why should it make any difference?”

Kennard answered with another question. “Why do you think the Keepers are required to be virgins?”

Kerwin hadn’t the faintest idea, but it suddenly struck him that it explained Elorie. On the surface, she was a lovely young woman, certainly as beautiful as Taniquel, but as sexless as a child of seven or eight. Rannirl had said something about ritual virginity—and Elorie was certainly as unconscious of her own beauty and desirability as the youngest, most unaware of children. Or more so; most little girls, by eight or nine, were quite aware of their own femininity and one could see in them the seeds of desirability. Elorie, somehow, seemed entirely unaware of her own womanhood.

“In the ancient days it was regarded as a ritual thing,” Kennard said. “I think that’s drivel. The fact remains that it’s terribly dangerous for a woman to work in the centerpolar position in a matrix circle, holding the energon flows, unless she’s a virgin; it has something to do with nerve currents. Even on the edges of the circle, the women observe strict chastity for a considerable time beforehand. As for you—well, you are going to need every scrap of your nervous energy and strength tonight, and Taniquel knows that. Hence, you get some sleep. Alone. And I might as well warn you, if you haven’t already found it out, that you won’t be much good to a woman for some days afterward. Don’t let it worry you; it’s just a side effect of the energy drains.” He laid a kindly, almost fatherly hand on Kerwin’s wrist. “The trouble is, Jeff, you’ve become so much a part of us that we forget you haven’t always been here; we take it for granted that you’ll know all these things without being told.”

Jeff said in a low voice, touched by Kennard’s warmth, “Thank you—kinsman.” He used the word without selfconsciousness, for the first time. If he had been foster-brother to Cleindori, Jeff’s mother—Kerwin already knew that fosterage, on Darkover, created family ties that were, in many cases, stronger than those of blood.

He asked on an impulse, “Did you know my father, Kennard?”

Kennard hesitated. Then he said, slowly, “Yes. I suppose you could say I knew him quite well. Not—not as well as I could have wished, or things might have been different. It didn’t help me to change anything.”

“What was my father like?” Kerwin asked.

Kennard sighed. He said, “Jeff Kerwin? Not much like you; you look like my sister. Kerwin was big and dark and practical; a no-nonsense kind of man. But he had imagination, too. Lewis—my brother—knew him better than I did. He introduced him to Cleindori.” Kennard frowned suddenly and said, “Look this is no time for this. Go and rest.” He sensed that Kennard was troubled. Abruptly, whether because he sensed something, picked up an image form Kennard’s mind, Kerwin asked:

“Kennard, how did my mother die?”

Kennard’s jaw set in a tight line. He said, “Don’t ask me, Jeff. Before they consented to let you come here—” He stopped, obviously considering what to say, and Kerwin sensed that the older man was holding himself tightly blocked against Kerwin picking up even a fragment of thought. He said, “I was at Arilinn, too, then. And they asked me to come back because they were so short-handed, after—after what happened. But before they consented to let you come here, they made me—made me swear I wouldn’t answer certain questions, and that’s one of them. Jeff, the past is
past
. Think of today. Everybody at Arilinn, everybody in the Domains, has to put the past behind us and think of what we’re doing for Darkover and for our people.” There was a hint of old pain in his face, but he was still tightly barriered.

“Jeff, when you came here, we were all very doubtful about you. But now, win or lose, you’re one of us. True Darkovan—and true Comyn. That thought may not be as reassuring as it would be to have Tani with you,” he added, with an attempt at flippancy, “but it should help, just a little. Now go and sleep—kinsman.”

 

They sent for him at moonrise. The Arilinn Tower felt strange and still in the deep night, and the matrix chamber was filled with the strange resonating quiet. They gathered, speaking in hushed voices, feeling the stillness as a living thing around them, a very real presence they hated to disturb. Kerwin felt slack, empty, exhausted. He noticed that Kennard was limping more than usual; Elorie looked sleepy and cross, and Neyrissa spoke sharply when Rannirl made some jocular remark.

Taniquel touched Kerwin’s forehead, and he felt the faint feather-touch of her thoughts, the swift sure rapport. He did not flinch away from it now. “He’s all right, Elorie.”

Elorie glanced from Taniquel to Neyrissa. “You monitor, Tani. We need Neyrissa in the circle,” she explained, at Neyrissa’s injured glance. “She’s stronger; and she’s been working longer.” To Kerwin, she explained, “when we’re working in a circle like this, we need a monitor outside the circle, and Taniquel’s the best empath we have; she’ll stay in rapport with all of us, so if one of us forgets to breathe, or gets a muscle cramp, she’ll know it before we do, and keep us from being too depleted or damaged. Auster, you hold the barriers,” she directed, adding, for the benefit of the newcomer, “we all drop our individual barriers, and he puts up a group barrier which keeps out telepathic eavesdropping; and he’ll sense it if anyone tries to interfere with us. In the old days there were alien forces on Darkover; perhaps, for all we know, there still are. The barrier around the gestalt formed by our minds will protect us.”

Kennard was holding a smaller matrix lattice—one of the glass-surfaced screens like the one they had constructed. He was turning it this way and that, toward each of them, frowning and making some small adjustments on a calibrated dial. Lights glowed here and there in its depth. He said, absentmindedly, “Auster’s barrier should hold, but just for safety’s sake I’ll put a damper on, and focus it around the Tower. Second level, Rannirl?”

“Third, I think,” Elorie said.

Kennard raised his eyebrows. “Everyone in the Domains will know that something’s going on in Arilinn tonight!”