And All Between (12 page)

D’ol Regle sighed, rearranging his cramped limbs with difficulty. It was ironic, he thought, that he, who had dedicated his life to the memory of the great Vine-priest, might never achieve his secret ambition to follow in the footsteps of his idol. He had never doubted that he had good reason for his high ambition. Had he not been the most avid promoter of celebrations and Free Days honoring the memory of the holy D’ol Wissen? And would it not be only just for him, D’ol Regle, the acknowledged authority on ancient history, to dwell in the ancient palace of the Vine-priest, with its access to the chamber of the Forgotten where lay all the ancient records and documents. And had he not felt, always, that it was somehow his true destiny to lead the holy processions. It seemed unfair, indeed, that he had been kept from that high honor by the existence of one individual. An individual of delicate and fragile stature, who seemed, however, to be endowed with amazingly tenacious good health and vigor.

But now it seemed that D’ol Falla’s strange influence over her fellow Ol-zhaan had, at last, brought them, and all Green-sky, to the edge of disaster. She had had her way in the matter of the choosing of Raamo D’ok, in spite of the fact that she knew well the danger involved in bringing into their midst a novice who, through his abnormal skill in pensing, could easily discover secrets for which he was as yet unprepared. The results could be complete disaster; and might certainly be so, were it not for the good offices of the zealous and dutiful novice, D’ol Salaat.

Only a few hours before, soon after the first fall of rain, D’ol Salaat had come to him, breathless and in haste, and had told him an incredible story. A story of treachery and intrigue that involved not only D’ol Raamo, but two other youthful Ol-zhaan.

D’ol Salaat, it seemed, had grown suspicious of the strange behavior of two of his fellow novices, and had begun to follow them, secretly and from a safe distance. Thus engaged, he had, only the day before, followed them all the way to the forest floor. He had been well aware, of course, of the risks involved; but feeling, as he did, that his own future was of less importance than the need to expose such evil behavior, he had persevered. And once on the forest floor he had, from a distance, observed what must have been a meeting between three Ol-zhaan and the Pash-shan.

D’ol Salaat had identified the three Ol-zhaan whom he had followed as the two first-year novices, D’ol Raamo and D’ol Genaa, along with another youthful Ol-zhaan, D’ol Neric, who had completed his novitiate less than two years before. With them had been a small female child, whom they had left at the nid-place of Raamo’s family before they returned to the Temple Grove. D’ol Salaat had been able to observe the child at fairly close range, and he felt certain she was not the younger sister of D’ol Raamo, although she was apparently of about the same age. Who she was, and why the three rebels had taken her with them to the forest floor, was a mystery to D’ol Salaat, as it certainly was to D’ol Regle himself.

It had been immediately apparent that action would have to be taken. At the very least, such shocking disregard of the taboo against all things below would have to be corrected. But there was, of course, a much greater issue involved. It seemed certain that the three renegades, as well as their mysterious girl child, were now in possession of dangerous knowledge—knowledge concerning the true nature of the Pash-shan, forbidden to all except the members of the Geets-kel.

After confirming by skillful questioning that D’ol Salaat had not himself seen the Pash-shan and harbored no dangerous suspicions, D’ol Regle had entrusted him with a new assignment. He had been sent back to the novice hall with instructions to keep watch and to again follow D’ol Raamo and D’ol Genaa when they next left their chambers.

So, as the long night wore on, D’ol Regle waited for the return of his lookout, and pondered the significance of what he had learned as well as what must be done about it. And in his pondering there was one fact to which he returned again and again, one bit of information which, although it was not yet conclusive, intrigued him more and more as the night wore on.

According to the novice D’ol Salaat, D’ol Regle had not been the only person to whom he had gone with his shocking story. He had taken his report first to the highest authority, as was right and natural. He had gone immediately to the palace of the Vine-priest and spoken to the ancient D’ol Falla, telling her in full detail everything that he had later told D’ol Regle.

“And what was her response?” D’ol Regle had questioned the novice.

“She told me to go home to my nid and get some rest, and that she would consider what was to be done.”

“Did she tell you to come to me with your story?”

“No, it was afterwards on my way to the novice hall that it occurred to me that it might be well for me to speak to you also, D’ol Regle. I’m not sure why, except that it seemed to me that you had as much right to be informed of so serious a matter as has the Vine-priest. There are many among the Ol-zhaan who feel that the wisdom and judgment of the novice-master, D’ol Regle, is unsurpassed in all Green-sky.”

And so the excellent and perceptive young novice, D’ol Salaat, had been dispatched back to the novice hall where he could keep watch over the two younger offenders, and D’ol Regle prepared himself for a long night of careful planning. But as he planned, his thoughts returned repeatedly to the question of D’ol Falla—and what, if anything, she would do with the information that had been given to her. Surely she would not hesitate to move against so flagrant an offense because it involved her protégé, D’ol Raamo. And if she did hesitate, if she in fact neglected to do that which was only right and necessary under the circumstances—what would be the outcome? Would not the Ol-zhaan see, at last, that it was time to choose a new Vine-priest, one who was quick in judgment and decisive action, when such action was necessary to protect the well-being of all Green-sky.

The seventh hour came and, arising from his uncomfortable resting place, D’ol Regle prepared himself for the day’s demands. He had, he thought, considered every possibility and had formulated plans to deal with any eventuality, no matter how catastrophic. But even in his wildest imaginings he had not begun to foresee the terrible choices that would be forced upon him by the day’s events.

The eighth hour had not yet run its course when D’ol Salaat returned, his round face pale and quivering and his eyes so glazed with emotion that they resembled the embroidered eyes of faces in a tapestry. For several minutes he seemed unable to speak, either from breathlessness due to the excessive haste with which he had come, or to the difficulty of putting into words, events so outside the realm of reason and reality. When he had, at last, gained control of his voice, he began to unfold an incredible story.

Having left D’ol Regle, the night before, D’ol Salaat had returned to the novice hall where he had stationed himself in the common room where he could observe the doorways that led to the nid-chambers of both D’ol Raamo and D’ol Genaa. There he had waited, wakeful, but perhaps dozing occasionally until shortly before the seventh hour. At that time he had observed D’ol Genaa emerge from her nid-chamber and enter that of D’ol Raamo. After only a moment she reappeared, seemingly agitated and hurriedly left the novice hall heading in the direction of the central platform of the grove. Following at a safe distance, D’ol Salaat had observed her meeting on the platform with D’ol Neric. For some minutes the two of them remained on the platform, talking in low voices and glancing around them, as if expecting the arrival of someone else, probably their accomplice, D’ol Raamo. But no one else appeared and finally they had approached the entrance of the Vine-priest’s palace, where the tendril lattice had already been removed from the entry. In spite of the earliness of the hour, the glow of lighted lamps was visible from within. They entered the palace and, hurrying after them, D’ol Salaat had entered also. Staying just far enough behind to be sure he was not seen, he followed them as they moved forward, slowly, as if unsure of their destination. Most of the huge palace was still in darkness, but a few glowing honey lamps seemed to have been hung to illuminate a pathway that led upward through halls and up rampways. At last, having reached a very narrow hallway with a secret entrance, which had been left open, his quarry began to move very slowly and quietly, and the sound of voices could be heard coming from just ahead. They stopped then, and for a long time stood still, apparently listening to what was being said in the room beyond.

Although he edged as close as he dared, D’ol Salaat was unable to hear the words of the speakers, but he was certain that one of the voices was that of D’ol Falla, while the other was probably that of D’ol Raamo. After many minutes the two who had been standing silently in the doorway entered the room and began to take part in the conversation of the first two speakers. At that point, D’ol Salaat dared to come closer and, approaching to just outside the doorway, which seemed to lead into a chamber hollowed out of an enormous grundtrunk, he was able to hear most of what was being said.

He had not been able to hear everything, and some of the words used were without meaning to him, but it was apparent that the four were making plans, to do something very strange and mysterious. They spoke, D’ol Salaat said, of “releasing the Erdlings” and of the “dream of D’ol Nesh-om.”

When, at last, D’ol Salaat ceased to speak, D’ol Regle sat for a long time in stunned silence. It was obvious that a plot was afoot that would, if allowed to succeed, destroy everything for which D’ol Wissen had labored; everything, in fact, that had for so long protected all of Green-sky from unthinkable risks and dangers. And it was also apparent that the greatly honored D’ol Falla was, herself, a part of this evil plot.

For many minutes D’ol Regle sat, deep in thought, while his messenger stood respectfully before him, swaying a little from time to time, as his eyes rolled upward with exhaustion. At last the novice-master spoke.

“D’ol Salaat!” he said abruptly, startling the half-dozing novice. “Take the hallway to your left and continue down it until you come to the second archway. In the chamber beyond are my helpers, the Kindar who are assigned to my service; they will be engaged in their morning food-taking. Inform the two Kindar men called Tarn and Pino that they are to report to me here in the reception hall on the ninth hour. Tell them that they are to accompany me on a mission of great importance.”

T
HE BLESSING OF DOWN-FILLED
comforter supported by the living strength of tendril, received her, and sighing deeply, D’ol Falla surrendered her tired body to the solace of her nid. She was exhausted, weak and trembling and giddy with exhaustion. Her nid swayed softly, and the tightly drawn night shades tempered the soft green light of midday to a tender, muted glow. But although her body gave itself up with immense gratitude to repose, her mind refused to surrender itself to sleep. Instead it raced on and on, alternately turning back in wonder to the beginning, and then racing forward into the frightening uncertainties of the future.

It had all begun only the evening before, soon after the first fall of rain, when the pudgy-faced young novice called D’ol Salaat had presented himself before her. And while he recounted his astounding story, it had become clear that the time had come—that she could wait no longer to act upon her faith in the vision of Nesh-om, or else to retreat into the living death of the recent past.

It had been, indeed, a living death. A slow gradual dying—of the Spirit first, and then of Love and Joy—of all the holy gifts proclaimed by D’ol Nesh-om in the early days of Green-sky. She had not even seen them go. Insulated by power and by the great honors that had come to her, she had for many years been unaware, or at least had tried to be. Until at last, only a few years before, she had begun to be tormented by a strange restlessness, a yearning for the gifts of the Spirit that she had once possessed.

It was then that she had begun to try to regain that which had once been hers—by fasting and meditation, by ritual and discipline, by every means she had ever encountered. It was this search that had led her to the careful study of the ancient records of the Forgotten, and it was through that study she began to develop a compelling interest in the great controversy between the two great Ol-zhaan leaders, D’ol Wissen and D’ol Nesh-om. It was they who had brought a shipload of children to Green-sky when their home planet had been on the verge of destruction. Searching carefully through the ancient records, she had confronted the dilemma that had presented itself to the two great leaders when this first generation of Kindar reached maturity. Should these children, the last survivors of a beautiful and complex civilization that had destroyed itself utterly by violence, be made aware of their past and entrusted with their future. Or should they, having learned to live for the Love and Joy of the present, continue in innocence for their own protection.

Haunted by her growing conviction that Nesh-om had been right, and that the imprisonment of his followers below the Root had been a great evil, D’ol Falla had tried cautiously to discover if there were any among her fellow Geets-kel who shared her feelings. But it soon became apparent that, while a few seemed to have some doubts concerning the justice of what had been done in the past, none seemed ready, now, to risk a change.

And then, one night, a vision of foretelling had come to her, and a voice, which she seemed to know as that of D’ol Nesh-om, spoke to her and told her of a Chosen who would, by his very existence, break the bonds of pride and fear. You will know him by his gifts of the Spirit, the voice had told her, and by the two who will accompany him and give to his promise motion and direction.

Soon afterwards, she had heard of the child Raamo D’ok and had worked for his choosing; but when he was at last among the Ol-zhaan, she had been uncertain. Uncertain for her own faith in the vision, and also of Raamo, since his gifts seemed to be slight, and she did not yet know of his connection with the others—the forceful young Neric and the brilliant girl, Genaa.