The River Wall (38 page)

“To explain this, we must begin far, far in the past …” Tarani began, and I let my mind visualize everything I now understood to be the history of Gandalara. I saw the earths surface as it must have been: rich vegetation; land and sea and air teeming with life. In my minds vision, I focused on the Mediterranean area as the massive tectonic shifts began. The huge southern continent edged northward and choked off the opening between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, and the sea began to shrink.

As the water level fell, the Chizan passage rose up, making the eastern half of the sea little more than a big, stagnant pool which evaporated rapidly. The western half, receiving some replenishment from the narrow falls, lasted longer. Into my vision came bipedal, apelike creatures, foraging down the drying slopes and gradually migrating and adapting to the higher air pressure on the floor of the vanishing sea.

From the sky, a meteor rocketed into view and smashed into a cliff, trailing hard radiation that wrought a highly viable evolutionary change in the social creatures who had been wandering near the collision site. A pool of knowledge, accessible to all individuals, was formed subconsciously by the progeny of the affected survivors; later, that pool of memory would be called the All-Mind. With this storehouse of learning, the products of that first change rapidly advanced and multiplied into the first Gandalarans, while others, unaffected by the radiation, evolved into vineh.

The society of Gandalarans grew and advanced in knowledge. Specialized skills were passed down within families, and in a remarkably short time, a rich culture prospered around the edges of the two Pleths. Yet, within generations of that prosperity, strife between cities and individuals had become a common occurrence, as the Great Pleth shrank away from the walls and arable land became concentrated around the rivers which flowed down from mountain and wall.

One man had seen the danger of the continuous strife, and had acted to unite the efforts of all Gandalarans for the benefit of everyone. Yet even as wise as he had been, he had not seen the truth, and his vision of a lasting cooperation among cities had died with Kä—built at the edge of the Great Pleth, marooned in desert when the Last King abandoned it.

The Pleth had all but vanished. What remained of it had lain hidden within the Valley of Mists, to confound the understanding and vision of Gandalarans. But the recent shaking of the earth had been a warning—the gate to the ocean, nearly closed for so long, was opening again.

I stared at the waterfall and watched it grow through the coming years. The opening was not wide enough yet; there would be more earth movement to ease it ever wider. The waterfall was pouring over rock and earth which had built up over the centuries, but the force of so much water would quickly break down that barrier, and the flood would begin.

I envisioned the Pleth growing again, and Gandalarans moving around its edges, first enjoying the new wealth of water, however salty, then retreating as the sea reclaimed its floor. Painfully, I drew the vision of Gandalarans retreating to the eastern basin, only to find themselves in the same situation after a few years. I imagined them recognizing the danger at last, and attempting to climb the walls.

I imagined their efforts to breathe at the higher altitudes.

I imagined their failure.

In the end, I imagined the refilled Mediterranean, placid and peaceful, its waves and tides obscuring and destroying all that was Gandalara. It was a lonely, empty scene, and I pulled myself back into the present to sense a wave of sadness and shock flowing back to us from the people.

“What Rikardon has shown you of the past is true,” Tarani said, “or as close to the truth as can be guessed. What he pictured for the future, however, need not be true. There is a way in which all the best of Gandalara can be saved. That, too, is Rikardon’s vision, and I share it with you now….”

Again I slipped into a daydream state, but this time I visualized the gathering of people and animals, goods and skills, into the area around and above Eddarta.

I pictured how it would be, each generation cultivating the rich land between the branches of the Tashal at one level, and preparing the next level for cultivation. It was a strong and moving image of people working together: parents suffering discomfort so that their children could breathe normally; all skills contributing support to all people; sha’um and Sharith working side by side with farmers and artisans; everyone clearly seeing an objective far beyond their own lifetimes, and the achievement of that objective the basis for law and government.

I tried to picture the reclamation of the sea, as well, so that the final generation climbed to what would be the surface of Ricardo’s world as the sea rose to claim their most recent encampment.

“This is how it shall be, for those who have dedication and courage enough to claim a future for Gandalara,” Tarani said, speaking over and through the vision. “In three moons, a meeting will be held in Eddarta to plan the first step in climbing the River Wall. In each city, choose a few trusted people to attend that meeting. They will return to you with a set of rules. You will be obliged to accept those rules for the duration of your own lifetime, and to encourage acceptance in your children.

“Your representatives will also bear instructions about preparing for the journey. Each of you who chooses to accept the rules will be welcomed, and will increase the chances of this second vision coming true.

“Our message ends here,” Tarani said. “I urge you to consider this matter carefully, to believe what you have seen, and to join us at the River Wall when the great journey begins.”

The dreamlike state eased, and I became more aware of my body, as Tarani dissolved the close connection between our minds. I was once more conscious of the cool dampness of the fall’s spray, the pounding roar of water impacting water, and a fierce burning in my hand.

As had happened in Raithskar, Tarani and I both flinched away from the Ra’ira. The stone rolled unevenly along the sloping ledge, rambled up a slight rise of stone at the rim of the ledge, and teetered there precariously. A bright blue glow was fading at the center of the gem.

Tarani lunged for it and caught it just before it fell, scraping knee and elbow on the rough surface of the rock. In sudden panic, I grabbed for her legs, but my fear was unfounded; she was in no danger of falling. Nor was she looking at the Ra’ira as its glow faded completely. She was staring across the pool of water, toward rocky slopes which seemed steeper and more clifflike than on this side. Puzzled by her absorption, I crawled down beside her and followed her gaze.

I studied the clifflike rocks for a moment before I noticed the movement, but suddenly I could see them: big white birds, circling from nests in the cliff. As I watched them, one soared out over the pool, adjusted the position of its wings, and glided down toward us.

Tarani and I sat up as the bird drew near. It hovered before us, its big wings beating slowly. It opened its beak and made some sort of sound, but the roar of the falls drowned it out.

So this is where Lonna came from
, I thought.
I wondered why we never saw any other birds of her species. How in the world did she manage to get trapped by a dralda, halfway across Gandalara, so that Tarani could rescue her? Another mark for “destiny,” I suppose.

Tarani reached out to stroke the breast feathers of the big bird, as she had done so many times with her close and deeply mourned friend. It happened, however, that the hand she extended still held the Ra’ira.

Only then did we notice that the Ra’ira was glowing again.

Tarani jerked her hand back, releasing the stone, and this time it did fall over the edge. The bird darted upward and headed for the cliff. Tarani had doubled her fists and was pounding the rock beside her knees, only the distorted grimace on her face evidence that she was screaming.

I tried to hold her, but she pushed me away roughly. We were too near the rim of the ledge, and she was too distraught, for me to try again. She jumped up suddenly, and began running back toward the sha’um, jumping recklessly from ledge to ledge. Beyond her, I could see Yayshah standing up, her neckfur lifted up in damp spikes.

Yayshah’s movement had alerted Keeshah and he, too, got to his feet. It was strange to see him like that, with his fur slicked down. The true shape of his powerful body was visible without that shadowing cushion of fluffy fur. Even though it showed the massive lines of muscle, the great cat looked somehow naked and vulnerable.

*Go now?*
Keeshah asked me.

*Very soon,*
I said.

I crawled to the rim of the ledge and looked down. The Ra’ira was resting in a small depression on the ledge below this one. It took a few minutes to get down there and back up, but when I mounted Keeshah, I had the Ra’ira. Tarani and Yayshah had already left.

We caught up with them just at nightfall. Tarani was sitting on a rock, and Yayshah was rolling in the sand, trying with small success to dry her fur. I dismounted and went to sit beside Tarani.

“You went back for it,” she said quietly, staring at her hands.

“I had to,” I said.

“It
belongs
at the bottom of the sea,” she said.

“All of Gandalara knows what it can do,” I answered. “If we left it, someone would come after it before the sea could cover it up. No, the only way to keep it safe is to keep control of it.”

Her body jerked, and she looked up at me, a terrible fear in her eyes. “Are you so sure that it is safe with us?” she demanded. “I
called
that bird, Rikardon. I compelled it to come to me, because I was overcome with sadness for Lonna. If I used the Ra’ira for my own gain once, I will do it again. Leave it, I beg you.”

I had put the blue stone in my belt pouch. I took it out now and stared at it, trying to decide.

Why am I hesitating?
I wondered.
Is this just another version of what Tarani’s feeling? A dependence? An addiction?

I felt a chill born of more than the dampness. Even looking at the thing had a slightly hypnotic effect. The eye was caught by the beautiful blue at the outer surface of the gem. Then one noticed one of the crystalline lines, and tried to trace its twisting path toward the center. The original thread was lost, but another was taken up and followed inward, only to be lost once more.

I realized that I was caught in that loop and, with an effort of will, I put my other hand over the Ra’ira to block it from view.

“You see the danger too,” Tarani said, with some relief. “Will you take it back, and throw it into the pool of the waterfall?”

“There may be a better way,” I said, and caught her hand as she started to protest. “Believe me, Tarani, there may truly be a way to destroy the thing for good. I don’t remember anything in Zanek’s experience with the stone about that sensation of heat, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. In fact, I asked him about it in Raithskar, and he said he suspected it was connected with the distance we were trying to encompass.”

I shrugged. “That may be it,” I said. “It could also be that the stones just getting old—its been around for centuries, after all. But I think there’s another reason. Until now, the Ra’ira has never been used by more than one person at a time.”

She frowned. “But the heat was not damaging,” she said.

“Not to us,” I admitted. “But look …” I uncovered the stone. “See the lines deep inside? What if the stone’s power is somehow a product of vibration along those lines when mindpower is focused through it? The more mindpower, the more vibration.”

She gasped. “Then with enough mindpower …”

I nodded. “I think it’s worth a try. If it doesn’t work, you have my promise I’ll bring the fleabitten thing back here and dump it in the ocean.”

The attempt to destroy the Ra’ira would have to wait for three months. As soon as we reached Eddarta, we began making plans to accommodate the representatives who would arrive for the meeting. We were hopeful that at least half of Gandalara’s cities and towns would send spokesmen; we were grateful when people actually began to arrive; we were stunned when it became evident that every single social group in the Walled World had responded to Tarani’s call for a united effort.

The Refreshment Houses had sent their Elders, so that there was a miniconvention of Fa’aldu being held in Eddarta. I was delighted to see Balgokh again, the Elder who had first befriended me in this world. I tried to thank him for all the help he had offered me then, and later, among the Fa’aldu, but he waved my thanks aside.

“Since the time of Harralen,” he said, “the Fa’aldu have acted on behalf of all of Gandalara. Though we were not entirely aware of it at the time, any assistance our people have given you has been given in the same cause.”

Tarani was surprised, one day, by a guard bearing a formal request to the High Lord for an audience. Tarani and I were in our sitting room, papers and plans spread out on a low table between us. Tarani frowned, obviously mystified by the message.

“Well, please escort the person back here,” Tarani said, and the guard left.

We got little work done in the next few minutes; Tarani was concentrating more on speculation about her visitor than on calculating food requirements for the first movement stage. When we heard the guards knock again, Tarani nearly jumped from her chair to open the door. I was seated on the hinge side of the door, so I saw only the door, not the visitor. I stood up in alarm, however, when I saw Tarani’s reaction.

The color drained from Tarani’s face, and she stepped back from the doorway slowly, as if hypnotized. Following her progress, at the same slow pace, first the hem of a gown and then the figure of a woman appeared past the edge of the door.

I thought, instantly, of Balgokh and the sense of presence and purpose he always conveyed. This woman was not tall, but she held herself rigidly erect, and seemed taller than her physical height. Her gown was blue, and flowed shapelessly from her shoulders to her ankles. The sleeves were full, but drawn up at the wrist. Only the thinness of her light-colored headfur and a slight hesitation in her walk betrayed her age.