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Authors: Randall Garrett

BOOK: The River Wall
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“He did not come for the meeting,” Zanek said. “He came because I asked him.”

“Why?”

Zanek waved his hand. “We can discuss that later, as well,” he said. “Take your message to the Lieutenant.”

34

I broke away, still wondering. I found Thymas—and Ronar—sitting against the wall of Lord City, surrounded by wide-eyed Eddartan children. They touched and patted the big sha’um, while Ronar closed his eyes and twitched his ears. He lowered his head and pushed outward, lifting a smallish kid off the ground. The little boy screamed with delight. He moved away; a little girl took his place; Ronar gave her the same sort of ride, to the same reception.

“This is a far cry,” I said, “from the day when Ronar wouldn’t let Tarani anywhere near him.”

Thymas grinned and stood up, dusting off the seat of his trousers.

“It is a time of change,” he said, and then grew serious. “Children are more important than ever, now. They will be around sha’um all the time; they must be taught to respect their strength, but not to fear them.”

I was quiet for a second. Then I said: “And this is the man who doubted his leadership ability? His vision?” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Thymas, you’ve grown so much since I’ve known you. I know that seeing you now would fulfill every hope Dharak had for you.”

“I hope that is true,” Thymas said, looking at me squarely, “but I believe I have learned something both you and my father tried to tell me. It is foolish to live by another’s standards. If I am true to myself, and do not willingly shirk responsibility, well, then”—he shrugged—“whatever I do is the best I can do, and is enough.”

I was truly amazed by the insight of that remark, and for a moment I just stared at Thymas.

“What is wrong?” he asked, after a moment, with an unwelcome shadow of the sullen mood which used to be standard for him.

“I’m realizing how little contact we have had these past weeks,” I said, “and how much I depend on you to handle the Sharith on your own. And I’m feeling very grateful that you’re here to do it.”

He accepted that with more poise than he had ever exhibited before, but he said: “Zanek has helped.”

“Speaking of Zanek,” the boy continued, “he asked me to come here today. Were you going to take me to him?”

“What?” I said, momentarily confused. “Oh—no, he said whatever he needed could wait. I’ve come to ask you to get the Ra’ira for us. Bring it to Lord Hall in an hour—well, less, now that I’ve delayed the message. Is it close enough to get it here in that time?”

The boy nodded, and gently disengaged the current rider from Ronar’s head. I expected tantrums and wailing when Thymas stopped the game, but all it took was Ronar standing up with Thymas on his back to send the children scampering backward.

Thymus is right in one way
, I thought.
All children will have to acquire a passing acquaintance with sha’um. But I doubt they’ll ever stop being just a little bit afraid of them, unless they bond with one. And that’s good. It’s safer. Because I have good reason to know that even bonded sha’um never stop being just a little bit wild.

Thymas walked into Lord Hall almost exactly at the appointed time. His step faltered briefly when he came into the room and saw Indomel and Zefra standing beside Tarani and Zanek, but he recovered, walked directly to the High Lord, and offered her a leather pouch.

Indomel seemed to sway forward, and Tarani must have noticed the movement from the corner of her eye.

“Thank you for coming so promptly, Thymas,” she said. “Please take the stone out of the pouch and place it on that post.” She pointed to one of several hip-high stone pillars that dotted this one area of the big room.

Lord Hall was really a wide corridor that ran inside the octagonal walls of the Hall, surrounding the central chamber which was the official meeting place of the Lords. In the chamber stood the Bronze, the engraved message written by Zanek and recently quoted to Tarani. Behind the ceiling-high panel that held the Bronze was the treasure vault of the High Lords, the avenue by which Tarani and I first had entered Lord Hall.

On that night, these pillars had been hidden by closely latticed wooden frames which had been positioned on the pillars, covered with cloths, and laden with food for the Celebration Dance. At the formal proclamation of Tarani’s becoming High Lord, sturdier frames had provided a platform to support Hollin and Tarani during the ceremony. Now, however, only one pillar was in use: it supported an oddly shaped blue stone.

Tarani left Indomel and Zefra and walked around the pillar to stand beside me. Thymas had moved back, but I had the feeling he was still around, curious about what was going on.

It’s only fair
, I thought.
He’s been involved since the beginning; he’s entitled to be here at what I hope will be the end of the Ra’ira.

“Indomel, move this way a little; Mother, go the other way….”

She guided everyone until the stone was surrounded by a square of people, Tarani and I together marking one corner of the square. We had not discussed how to go about this, not once since that conversation three months ago. It felt right that Tarani and I were together. She seemed to be a catalyst through which I could have some effect on the Ra’ira. Her closeness comforted me for another reason. The Ra’ira still frightened me terribly.

No, that’s wrong
, I realized suddenly.
The stone doesn’t frighten me; what I could do with its power, what I can feel myself
wanting
to do with its power—that’s what frightens me. It’s not that the Ra’ira’s power is dangerous in the hands of evil men like Ferrathyn. The really scary thing is the temptation presented by that power. People with good intentions have little real use for something that can control and deceive other people. But people with good intentions are tempted. Everybody has at least a few flawed and ugly places hidden away inside themselves. Those places respond to the lure of the Ra’ira, and the person suddenly becomes aware of them.

I’ve seen a few of mine. They
are
scary.

When everyone was arranged to Tarani’s satisfaction, she said: “Rikardon, will you explain it?”

Roused from my fixation on the Ra’ira, I did explain, as best I could, my theory about the way the Ra’ira actually worked. Before I had gone very far, Indomel figured it out.

“You want us to destroy it!” he exclaimed. Zefra gasped, and Zanek raised his eyebrows.

“Do you really think it can be done?” Zanek asked.

It was Tarani who answered.

“We have all been in contact through the Ra’ira before,” Tarani said, “but only at great distances. It is my hope and Rikardon’s that the four of us—I count Rikardon with me,” she said, taking my hand, “can shatter the stone at close range and with deliberate intent.”

“I won’t do it!” Indomel said, his voice low and fierce.

Tarani’s hand tensed, and she grew very still.

“Indomel, I hoped you would cooperate in this without coercion,” she said.

“Coercion?” he echoed. “Do you mean compulsion? I doubt you will do that, Sister, or that it would, in the end, work. While you are controlling me, some of your own power is diverted, so that the gain would be very little. And in any case, you have proved that you can control my mind, but my skill is a different matter altogether.”

“Compulsion would, indeed, be profitless,” Tarani responded. “It is not what I meant. I will give you what you believe you want, Brother. I give you a taste of the Ra’ira’s power.”

Now it was Tarani who leaned toward the stone, angling toward the thinnish, mean-spirited young man some ten feet away from her.

“Would you use the stone to see the thoughts of others, Indomel? Then look into
my
mind. See
my
thoughts.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide. His muscles went taut so suddenly that he staggered a step sideways, and groped blindly for one of the pillars for support.

“It is not true,” he whispered. “No—stop it, please.”

But Tarani had let loose something she had suppressed for a long time, and it snapped out of her with the force of a cracking whip.

“Anger and hatred,” Tarani said. “I have seen you take pride in inspiring them, Indomel. But they are not so pleasant, are they, without a shield of distance? Imagine what it would be like to be surrounded by it, exposed to it like this every hour of every day. That is what the Ra’ira would bring you, my brother. Is it truly what you wish?”

“I—no,” Indomel said, then seemed to recover a little. There was a stubborn certainty in his voice as he said: “This is not how it would be.
You
are doing this. If I used the Ra’ira, I could—I could—”

He stumbled, and it occurred to me that, probably, Indomel had never quite defined what he wanted in seeking the enigmatic power of the stone.

“You could look only for pleasant things,” Tarani said scornfully, “such as … the love of a mother for her son.”

Zefra started, and had enough time to say a few words before she, too, went rigidly tense: “No—I beg you, do not let him see—”

Whatever it was that Indomel and Zefra shared, it caused them both so much pain that both their voices blended in an anguished wail. The sound echoed in the big room, then stopped abruptly as Tarani released both Indomel and Zefra.

We were all quiet for a moment, then Zefra said: “That was cruel, Daughter—a cruelty I would not have expected from you.”

“Agreed,” Tarani said. “The Ra’ira encourages cruelty, Mother. It is because I find myself capable of doing such a thing that I am determined to see the stone destroyed. Listen, both of you,” she commanded.

Indomel drew himself up straight and looked at Tarani. His face was haggard.

“If we cannot destroy the gem, it will be hidden far away from here. I trust Zanek to leave it be for the remainder of this lifetime, for he has proved himself to be trustworthy. I trust myself only because I am not alone,” she said, squeezing my hand, “and someone of good sense has some control over my actions. But I know the Ra’ira will never cease to hold a fascination for the two of you, and I will be plagued constantly with worry that you will find a way to retrieve it.

“Rikardon and Zanek and I have a great task before us, and it is one to which we must apply every possible energy. I will not let simple respect for our blood ties force me to endure such a distraction.”

Zefra quailed. “Tarani. You would have us killed? Me? Because of this—?”

Indomel said nothing, but the look in his eyes showed his absolute faith in Tarani’s willingness to destroy him.

“The stones power
must
be neutralized,” Tarani said. “If it cannot be destroyed, then those who would
use
it must be destroyed. But—no, Zefra, I would not ‘have you killed.’ I bear you more regard than that, and I could not fairly assign that responsibility and guilt. I would kill you myself, with a sword or a dagger—cleanly, without the taint of the Ra’ira.”

We all knew it was true.

Zefra turned to her son.

“Indomel, no matter what you saw in me, please believe this. I loved you as a child. I have hated what Pylomel made of you, but I would not, willingly, see you die. Do as Tarani asks; help her destroy the stone.”

The boy stared at his mother without speaking, until Zefra could stand it no longer.

“Are—are you thinking that I beg for my own life?”

“No,” he said. “I am—Mother, I do believe you. I saw it when Tarani brought us together. The hatred—yes, that was a bitter hurt. But—I saw your love too. You not only felt it then, there is still some affection for me, in spite of what my father did, in spite of what
I
have done to you. How can that be?”

“The quest for that answer,” Tarani interrupted, “will wait until another time. If the Ra’ira can be destroyed, there will be enough time for you and Zefra to truly begin to know one another.”

Indomel nodded, stood up straight, and stepped forward. “I am ready, Tarani. I will give you whatever strength I can command.”

“Come closer,” Tarani said, “and join hands.”

I felt there was less logic in that command than a need for a physical confirmation of our united purpose. Zanek/Dharak’s hand was strong and warm in mine.

No order was required from Tarani; we merely began, all of us, staring at the stone. A glow shimmered in its depths, and grew brighter. Even though I had associated the mindplane experience with communication across distances, as the feeling of power built, the room seemed to darken with the tangible nothingness of the mindplane, until I was seeing the room with all my senses. Zanek, Zefra, and Indomel were physically visible, but their bodies were cloaked in the auras of energy I had sensed before. Tarani’s was not visible because, as in every earlier instance, we were together.

I felt that closeness now with hand and mind, and I had an awareness of the others. The room was pervaded with a sense of purpose that was as awesome as the force of mindpower at work.

Rather than focusing that power
through
the Ra’ira, it was, itself, the object of all that power. If my theory were correct, and vibration within the stone transmitted and amplified that energy, the vibration should be doubly intense if no outlet were provided.

The Ra’ira, too, had a double image. It shone with an ever brighter blue glow, and it struck my other senses as pulsing with the energy being applied to it. The effort we were making felt, to me, like applying steadily increasing pressure to a stone wall. I bore down, and I sensed the others pushing harder.

The images of the Ra’ira blended, and the pulsing psychic radiance seemed to turn to blue light. The pulsing became slower and stronger, and impacted our mindsight like the sound of a booming bass drum impacts the ear. Slower … stronger … brighter …

The radiance flared into an intolerable whiteness and vanished.

Instantly, all the connections between us vanished, and we snapped apart as if we were sections of a taut rubber band, sliced through at four points simultaneously.

Resting on the pillar was a tiny pile of lusterless blue chunks. I picked one up with a shaking hand, but I felt nothing from it. No tingle, no aura, nothing more meaningful than a shapeless and rather unattractive chunk of blue stuff.

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