God of Tarot (10 page)

Before the beginning of years

There came to the making of man

Time with a gift of tears;

Grief with a glass that ran;

Pleasure, with pain for leaven;

Summer, with flowers that fell;

Remembrance fallen from heaven,

And madness risen from hell;…

…wrought with weeping and laughter,

And fashioned with loathing and love,

With life before and after

And death beneath and above,

…

His speech is a burning fire;

With his lips he travaileth;

In his heart is a blind desire,

In his eyes foreknowledge of death;

He weaves, and is clothed with derision;

Sows,
and he shall not reap;

His life is a watch or a vision

Between a sleep and a sleep.

Algeron C. Swinburne:
Atalanta
In Calydon

The Reverend Siltz’s hut was exactly like the others, distinguished only by the hammer-and-sickle on its hewn-timber door. It was small, but cozy and well-ordered inside. The walls and ceiling were paneled with rough-sawn wood whose grain was nevertheless quite striking: the wood of the local Tree of Life, again. A wooden ladder led up the back wall to the attic. There were no windows, only air vents, slanted to exclude rain or flowing water. In the center of the room, dominating it, was the stove.

“Ah, an airtight side-drafter,” Brother Paul commented appreciatively. “With cooking surfaces and attached oven. A most compact and efficient design.”

“You know stoves?” Reverend Siltz inquired, suddenly more friendly.

“I get along well with mechanical things,” Brother Paul said. “I would not deem myself an expert, but we do use wood at our Vision Station, and it was my task to gather the fuel from the forest I admire a good design, if only because I deem it a shame to waste what God has grown.” Yet here were these people, burning the wood of the tree they worshipped. Oh, he was getting curious about the ramifications of that!

A woman stepped forward, middle-aged and pleasant. He had not noticed her because the stove had caught his attention—which could be taken as a sign of his present confused state. Her hair was dark brown and plaited in such a way as to resemble the bark of a tree. Now Brother Paul realized that he had seen similar hairdos on several of the other women working outside. An odd effect, but not unattractive. Another salute to the Tree of Life?

“My wife,” Reverend Siltz said, and she nodded. Brother Paul had not yet seen any firm indication that the woman had equal status with the men on this planet, but knew better than to make any assumptions at this early stage. “My son is at work; we may see him this evening.” There was another curious inflection; either the Reverend had a number of peculiar concerns, or Brother Paul was exaggerating the meanings of inconsequential nuances of expression.

“Your house is small by Earth standards,” Brother Paul said carefully. “I fear my presence will crowd you.”

The Reverend unfolded a bench from the wall. “We shall make do. I regret we have no better facilities. We are as yet a frontier colony.”

“I was not criticizing your facilities,” Brother Paul said quickly. “I did not come here for comfort, but I would hardly call this privation. You have an admirably compact house.”

The wife climbed the ladder and disappeared into the loft. “It is her sleep-shift,” Siltz explained. “She must help guard the wood by night, so she must prepare herself now. This is the reason we have space for you to stay.”

“Guard the wood?” Brother Paul asked, perplexed.

Reverend Siltz brought out some long, limber strips of wood and set about weaving them into something like a blanket. “Brother Paul, wood is paramount. Our houses are made from it and insulated throughout by it; it provides our furniture, our weapons, our heat. In our fashion we worship wood, because our need for it is so pressing. We must obtain it from the forest far away, and haul it by hand with guards against the predators of the range. We dare not pitch our villages closer to the forest because of the Animations; they permeate that region in season, but are rare here. The other villages of this planet are similarly situated, so as to be removed from the threat. We have little commerce with the other settlements. In winter the snows come eight meters deep.”

“Eight meters deep!” Brother Paul repeated, incredulous.

“Insulating us from the surface temperature of minus fifty degrees Celsius. Those who exhaust their supply of fuel wood before the winter abates must burn their furniture and supporting struts or perish, and if they burn so much that the weight of the snow collapses their houses, they perish.”

“Can’t they tunnel through the snow to reach the next house, so as to share with their neighbors?”

“Yes, if their neighbors happen to be of the same faith.” The man frowned, and Brother Paul suspected another complication of this society. Families of differing faiths would not share their resources, even to save lives? “Those who take more than their appointed share of wood imperil the lives of others. There is no execution on this planet except for the theft or wasting of wood. The Tree of Life may not be abused!” The Reverend’s face was becoming red; he caught himself and moderated his tone. “We have a difficult situation here; this is a good world, but a harsh one. We are of fragmented faiths and can hardly trust each other, let alone comprehend each other’s ludicrous modes of worship. This is the reason your own mission is significant. You shall decide which God is the true God of Tarot.”

Brother Paul was beginning to accept the tie-in between God and wood. Without wood, these people would perish, and they knew it. Yet this need did not seem to account for their evident fetishism. On Earth, people needed water to survive, and fresh water was scarce, but they did not worship it. “That
is
my mission, presumptuous as it may be. I gather you do not approve of it.”

Siltz glanced up from his weaving, alarmed. “Did I say that?”

“No, it is merely an impression I have. You do not need to discuss the matter if you do not wish to.”

“I would like very much to discuss it,” Siltz said. “But the Covenant forbids it. If my attitude conveys itself to you, then I am not being a proper host, and must arrange other lodging for you.”

Which surely would not be politic! “Probably I am jumping to conclusions; I apologize,” Brother Paul said.

“No, you are an intelligent and sensitive man. I shall endeavor to resolve the question without violating the Covenant. I do oppose your presence here, but this does not in any way reflect on your person or integrity. I merely believe this is a question that cannot be answered in this manner. You will necessarily discover a God that conforms to your personal precepts, but whose conformance to the actual God may be coincidental. I would rather have the issue remain in doubt, than have it decided erroneously. But I am a member of the minority. You were summoned, and the lot, in its wisdom, has brought you to my house, and I shall facilitate your mission exactly as though I supported it. This
my
God requires of me.”

“I do not think our concepts of God can be very far apart,” Brother Paul said. “I find your attitude completely commendable. But let me qualify one aspect: it is Earth that sent me here, not Colony Tarot. We of Earth are concerned as to whether the God of Tarot is genuine, or merely someone’s fancy. We too are wary lest a person committed to a single view be blind to the truth, whatever that may be. I doubt that I am worthy of this mission, but it is my intent to eliminate my personal bias as much as possible and ascertain that truth, though I may not like it. I don’t see that you colonists need to accept any part of my report, or let it affect your way of life. In fact I am uncertain about your references to a number of gods. Surely there is only one God.”

Reverend Siltz smiled ruefully. “In reassuring me, you place me at the verge of compromising my integrity. I must acquaint you in more detail with our religious situation here, asking you to make allowance for any lack of objectivity you may perceive. We are a colony of schisms, of splinter sects. Many of us were aware of the special effects of Planet Tarot before we emigrated from Earth, and each of us saw in these effects the potential realization of God—our particular, specialized concepts of God, if you will. This appeal seems to have been strongest to the weakest sects, or at any rate, the smallest numerically. Thus we have few Roman Catholics, Mohammedans, Buddhists, or Confucians, but many Rosicrucians, Spiritualists, Moonies, Gnostics, Flaming Sworders—”

“Flaming Sworders? Is that a Tarot image—I mean the card type of Tarot?”

“Not so. I apologize for using unseemly vernacular. It is my prejudice against these faiths, which you must discount.
The Flaming Sword
is the publication of the ChristianApostolicChurch in Zion, whose guiding precept is that the Earth is flat, not spherical.”

“But how, then, could they emigrate to another planet? They would not believe other planets existed!”

“You must ask a member of that cult; perhaps he can provide you with a verisimilitudinous rationale. I fear my own mind is closed, but I am forbidden by the Covenant to criticize the faiths of others in your presence. Let us simply say that with faith, all things are possible. I’m sure you appreciate my position.”

“I do,” Brother Paul agreed. For all his gruffness, the Reverend was a sincere, comprehensible man, and a good host. “I once heard a child’s definition: ‘faith is believing what you know ain’t so.’ That now seems apropos.” He paused. “Um, no offense intended, but I had not expected to encounter your own Church, either. What are its precepts?”

“I regret I can answer you only vaguely. I have vowed by the Tree of Life to make no effort to prejudice your mind by contamination with my own particular faith.”

The man’s attitude was coming through fairly clearly, however! “Because of the Covenant?”

“Precisely. I will not claim to agree with the Covenant, but I am bound by it. The majority feel that your continuing objectivity is crucial. I will only say that the guiding principles of Church Second Comm are essentially humanist, and that we maintain only symbolic connection to the atheistic Communists of Earth. We are
theist
Communists.”

“Ah, yes,” Brother Paul said, disconcerted. Godfearing Communists—and the Reverend was obviously sincere. Yet this was no more anomalous in theory than God-fearing Capitalists. “I had the impression that Planet Tarot was an English-language colony; are the religions represented here primarily Western?”

“They are. About eighty per cent derive from Occidental Christian origins; the rest are scattered. In that sense, most believe in some form of the Christ, as you do; that is why I said your Order is a good one for our purpose, though I question that purpose. You will likely find a Christian God, but you have no local Church to cater to, so you are relatively objective. The reputation of your Order has preceded you; Visionists are known not to interfere with other faiths, while yet remaining true to their own faith. I believe you will be approved.”

“I had not realized that my mission here was subject to local approval,” Brother Paul said, a bit dryly. “What will they do if they don’t like me? Ship me back to Earth?” There was, of course, no way for the colonists to do that.

“There are those whose faith is such as to destroy infidels,” Siltz said. “We believe our own village is secure, but we cannot speak for other villages. We shall, of course, protect you to the limit of our means—but it is better that we stand united in this matter.”

“Yes, I appreciate that.” Brother Paul shook his head ruefully. Destroy infidels? That had connotations of fanatic murder! What nest of vipers had he matter-mitted into? He had been warned about none of this; obviously the authorities on Earth knew little of the social phenomena of their colonies. He could not afford to rely on his limited briefings. “Yet if most sects here believe in the Christian God—who is also the Jewish and Mohammedan God, whether termed YHVH or Allah—why should there be any need to qualify Him further?”

“This is the question I have been trying to answer,” Reverend Siltz said. “We are an exceedingly jealous conglomerative culture, here on Planet Tarot. Your interpretation of God surely differs somewhat from mine, and both of ours differ from that of the Church of Atheism. Who is to say which sect most truly reflects God’s will? There must be one group among us that God favors more than the others, although He tolerates the others for the sake of that one—and that is the one we must discover. Perhaps God has dictated the savagery of our winter climate, forcing us to seek Him more avidly, as the God of the Jews brought privation upon them to correct their erring ways. We all depend on the largesse of the Tree of Life, and so we must ultimately worship the God of the Tree, even if we don’t like that God, or the sect which is that God’s chosen. Whether we call Him The God, or merely One among many, is of little moment; we must address Him as He dictates. We shall do so. But first we must ascertain objectively the most proper aspect of that God.”

Phew! The colonists were taking this matter much more seriously than did the scholars back on Earth. “I really cannot undertake to do that,” Brother Paul said cautiously. “To me, God is All; He favors no particular sect. The Holy Order of Vision is not a sect in that sense; we seek only for the truth that is God, and feel that the form is irrelevant. While we honor Jesus Christ as the Son of God, we also honor the Buddha, Zoroaster, and the other great religious figures; indeed, we are
all
children of God. So we seek only to know whether God
does
manifest here; we do not seek to channel Him, and would not presume to pass upon the merits of any religious sect.”