And All Between (10 page)

Sighing, Teera gently pushed Haba off her lap and looked up at Pomma.

“Yes, I think so, too,” Pomma said, and it was not until later that she realized that Teera had not spoken. It had not been with her ears that she had heard Teera saying that she thought D’ol Genaa had other reasons for hating the Pash-shan. But when she did realize what had happened and excitedly told Teera that she had pensed her words, Teera seemed uncertain about it.

“Are you sure I didn’t say it out loud?” she asked. “I was thinking of saying it, so perhaps I did.”

“No, I’m sure,” Pomma said excitedly. “I’m almost positive I pensed it.”

“My words?” Teera said uncertainly. “But Erdlings cannot pense words, or send them.”

“Send something else,” Pomma said. “Send something in words, and see if I can pense you.”

So Teera tried. She tried for a long time, but nothing happened. At last she gave up, and they returned to spoken words to discuss the troubling things that were on their minds.

“Why do you suppose D’ol Raamo warned you so carefully to speak to no one concerning the things they were discussing?” Teera asked.

“I’m not sure,” Pomma said. “Except, of course, he would not want anyone to know that they had gone to the forest floor, and that they plan to go again. No one goes to the forest floor except the Vine-priests. At the Garden our teachers tell us not to even look below—not to think of it.”

“Yes,” Teera said, “but when your brother spoke to us about being silent, he spoke most strongly about the importance of not mentioning that there are really no Pash-shan, only Erdlings, and also to say nothing about the Geets-kel. Tell me again, Pomma—what are the Geets-kel?”

Pomma shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure. I heard D’ol Neric speak of them when I was hiding in the doorway. He spoke of hearing them talking at a secret meeting. He said they were talking about—” Pomma stopped, contorting her face in an effort to remember. “He spoke so fast and I could not hear everything, but he said they mentioned Raamo—and a secret. He said the Geets-kel know a secret that no one else knows. The secret was about the Pash-shan, and it was very dangerous. I think that D’ol Neric and Raamo think that the Geets-kel are dangerous.”

“But
who
are the Geets-kel?” Teera insisted.

“They are—” Pomma stopped again, reluctant to say what was on her mind since she had, for so long, been defending the Ol-zhaan to Teera, telling her that it was foolish to fear them.

“Ol-zhaan,” said Teera nodding, and this time neither one of them noticed that Pomma had not spoken the word aloud.

But there were other times when they could not help but notice—other changes, unexpected and unexplainable. They happened suddenly, fleetingly, in the midst of games or conversation; and afterwards there was wonder, and some uncertainty, as to whether anything had really happened or if it had all been only a part of their playing. But more and more often in their games of Five-Pense there were times when they spoke—briefly—in exact words and phrases without voice or sound, and in other games, also, things had begun to happen.

Teera’s interest in the lives of all Kindar children had inspired many games based on the practices of the Gardens. Taking the part of the instructor, Pomma had spent many hours teaching Teera the songs and stones and games and rituals used in the teaching at the Gardens. She had begun to teach Teera how to write with stylus on grundleaves, and with thread and needle on pages of silk, as well as many of the ritual exercises intended to prolong the skills of the Spirit, which were the birthright of every Kindar child. Together they had performed exercises that were meant to develop such inborn skills as pensing, grunspreking and kiniporting. And Pomma also explained how those who had lost their Spirit-powers were taught other skills, called illusions, which made it possible to conceal their loss, at least for a while.

When the changes began to happen, slight and fleeting and unpredictable at first, they were a source of excitement and mystery and sometimes almost of fear. The fear came not so much from the events themselves as from the way that they occurred, unexpectedly and for the most part uncontrollably. But the fear could not outweigh the strange fascination that grew stronger and stronger as the manifestations of growing Spirit-power became more frequent and less easy to ignore.

And there were other changes, too. With the improvement in her health and strength, Pomma was beginning to take a new and more active interest in many things. For many months, long before she had been confined to her nid-chamber by her illness, she had been sinking slowly and peacefully into a world of dreams, soothing, silent dreams, ever more deep and shadowed. Everything—shapes and colors, songs and voices, even thoughts and feelings—had become vague and distant and uncertain. And now, suddenly, everything seemed very near and bright and urgent. Each morning Pomma awoke with a kind of hungry eagerness, an impatient curiosity that made her scramble from her nid the moment her eyes opened, and which, at times, caused her to stand for long moments on her balcony gazing out into the green distances of the forest, and other distances of less tangible dimensions.

The days passed slowly and, at last, it was the morning of the day that Raamo and the two other young Ol-zhaan had promised that they would return to the D’ok nid-place. From the moment she arose from her nid, Teera was unusually quiet, and during the morning food-taking she ate but little. It was obvious to Pomma that she was tense and nervous, troubled by the thought that she would again be questioned by D’ol Genaa. Pomma wanted to comfort her—reminding her that Raamo had promised to be present when Genaa questioned her—but there was little space for words at the D’ok table that morning. Valdo D’ok was in good spirits, looking forward to a special celebration to be held before the hour of high sun, in the guildhall of the orchard harvesters. He had been asked, as the father of a Chosen and therefore a personage of high honor, to give the blessing of the Berry before the ceremonial partaking. To insure that the blessing would be of appropriate length and phrasing, it seemed wise to offer several versions to his family for their advice and approval.

So while Pomma listened to her father’s richly ornamented phrases, she tried to send a message of comfort to the troubled Teera. And when they returned, at last, to their chamber, Pomma said, “Raamo said he would be with you—that he wouldn’t leave you alone with D’ol Genaa.”

“Yes,” Teera said. “I remember. And I thank you for your comfort.” Her hands twisted tightly in her lap, and she looked around restlessly.

“Would you like to play a game?” Pomma asked. “It is more than an hour yet until the time Raamo said they would be here.”

“I think I would like to embroider,” Teera said. “It is still so difficult for me that when I try, it swallows all my thinking and keeps my mind from other things.”

So the embroidery frames were brought out, and Teera and Pomma absorbed themselves in the intricate and beautiful stitchery that was used by the Kindar not only to express their love of beauty and color, but also to record the written word. They were briefly interrupted by Valdo as he entered to hurriedly sing the parting, and a short time later by Hearba and her helper, Ciela, as they left on their way to the public pantries.

It was some time later that the silence of the nid-place was suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps. Pomma lifted her head from her work and stared at Teera. Teera’s wide brown eyes were full of fright. The steps that were approaching were firm and swift and quite unlike the quick soft tread of Hearba’s feet, or the more measured footfall of Valdo. Then the door hangings of Pomma’s chamber were pushed aside, and D’ol Genaa entered—alone.

There was a long painful silence. A silence that throbbed with fear and tension. It was Pomma who spoke first. “Where—where is Raamo—D’ol Raamo and D’ol Neric?”

“They will be here shortly,” D’ol Genaa said. “I had fewer duties this morning so I was able to leave the Temple a little early.” As she spoke D’ol Genaa smiled, a perfect gleaming smile that illuminated her dark beauty with a light that dazzled, but left behind it no warmth or comfort.

“I would like to speak to Teera alone for a few moments,” D’ol Genaa said. “Would you wait for us in the common room, Pomma?”

Pomma felt Teera’s hand on her arm, and she did not need to turn to see the silent plea that she knew would be in Teera’s eyes. “If you please, D’ol Genaa,” she faltered, “I would rather—I think Teera would rather—Teera could answer much better if I stayed with her.”

The dark eyes turned swiftly, and Pomma felt herself flinch before them. And when the Ol-zhaan took her gently but firmly by the arm, she allowed herself to be led from the chamber.

In the empty common room, Pomma stood for a moment, bewildered—unsure just how or why she had let herself be taken away from Teera. Then she ran to the entry way and looked out. Frantically she looked up and down the wide branchpath, desperately hoping for the arrival of Raamo and D’ol Neric. But although there were several people on the path, they were all dressed in the brightly colored shubas of the Kindar, and even in the far distance, Pomma could catch no glimpse of the shimmering white worn by the Ol-zhaan. A group of chattering children passed slowly, off on some free-day expedition, perhaps into the open forest to search for trencher beaks, but there was still no sign of Raamo and D’ol Neric. At last she whirled and ran headlong across the common room and halfway down the hallway, before she came to a sudden stop.

Only a few feet from the door to her chamber, she stood, poised on tiptoe, swaying forward as she urged herself to go on through the doorway, and then backward as she pictured the dark command in the eyes of D’ol Genaa. At last, she only crept forward until she was standing just outside the doorway, still concealed from view by the heavy tapestries that draped the entrance.

A voice was speaking, too softly for Pomma to make out the words, but it gasped and trembled and at times became choked with sobs. Then another voice spoke, soft but urgent. A pause—and a gasp, sharp and shocking—and a babble of wild frantic exclamations.

Tormented by indecision, Pomma put her hands over her ears to shut out the sound and spoke sternly to herself. “Go in,” she said. “Go in to Teera. She needs you.” But her Kindar training, ingrained, almost inborn, of respect and obedience to the Ol-zhaan was too great, and Pomma was still standing in the hallway when, a few minutes later, D’ol Genaa emerged from the nid-chamber leading Teera by the hand.

Teera’s face was wet with tears, but she smiled brightly, and it seemed to Pomma that she was receiving from Teera a wildly confusing jumble of thoughts and emotions. Uncertainly Pomma trotted after D’ol Genaa and Teera as they made their way across the common room.

“Where are you going, D’ol Genaa?” she pleaded. “Where are you taking Teera?”

At the doorway D’ol Genaa finally stopped and, turning to Pomma she said, “You must stay here, and when the others come tell them that we have gone on ahead. Tell them that Teera and I have gone on ahead to the forest floor.”

The heavy tapestries of the outer doorway fell behind them, and they disappeared from view before Pomma had time to wonder about a very strange thing that she was almost certain she had seen. Not only Teera’s eyes, but the dark eyes of D’ol Genaa, had been wet with tears.

D
ARKNESS WAS SPREADING AND
the first fine fall of the night rains had begun before Teera returned to the D’ok nid-place. She had been gone for only a day, but for Pomma it had been the longest and most miserable day of her whole life. Her fear for Teera, mixed with her shame that she had done so little to help her, had grown more intense as each minute crept by.

It had been, perhaps, no more than half an hour after Teera and D’ol Genaa had gone that Raamo and D’ol Neric arrived. They appeared suddenly, obviously breathless and troubled, and they seemed even more worried when Pomma told them what had happened and how D’ol Genaa, too, had been crying when she and Teera left. The two Ol-zhaan left hastily, and Pomma was alone with her fears and worries.

Not long afterwards Hearba returned with Ciela, and Pomma had to hide her fears and pretend only disappointment that the Ol-zhaan guests had come early and had taken Teera away with them—to be questioned at the Temple. And if Hearba saw her daughter’s wet lashes and sensed her despair, she undoubtedly thought only that Pomma grieved over her separation from her friend. Pomma wished fervently that she could tell her mother all that had happened. It would have been comforting to share her fears and to receive Hearba’s sympathy and reassurance. But it was impossible. There was so much that Hearba did not know and could not be told—about Teera, and the Pash-shan, and the terrible mystery of D’ol Genaa.

As the hours passed, Pomma walked anxiously to and fro in her nid-chamber, hurrying out onto the balcony from time to time to watch and listen. Several times she thought of asking her mother for a handful of Berries, but although the thought was sweet and tempting, she did not act upon it. It seemed wrong, somehow, that she should comfort herself with cloudy dreams while Teera was, perhaps, in great danger.

At last, as the soft green forest light slanted into twilight, Raamo returned, and with him came D’ol Genaa, D’ol Neric—and Teera—and quite suddenly everything was changed beyond imagining.

The moment they entered the common room, Teera and the three young Ol-zhaan, the change was apparent. Even the air around them seemed to be charged with high emotion; and all of them, and most particularly D’ol Genaa, seemed transformed. D’ol Genaa’s dark eyes were drowned and dim, and her mouth was blurred by wavering smiles, and yet her beauty had never been so astonishing. She looked, Pomma thought, like someone lost in a joyful dream. And as for Teera—Pomma could pense her happiness with no effort at all.

The hour was late, and there was little time. Songs of greeting and parting were intermingled as the three Ol-zhaan hurriedly departed, leaving Teera behind them. Although Hearba and Valdo had been told that Teera had been taken to the Temple for questioning, Pomma could tell that they, too, were aware of something extraordinary, and were plainly very curious. When Pomma tried to hurry Teera away to their nid-chamber in order to question her, Hearba followed them. She busied herself about the room, lowering the night hangings across the latticed windows and fluffing the comforters on the nids. At last, turning to Teera she asked, “Did you enjoy your visit to the Temple, Teera?”