The Wild (63 page)

'No,' Danlo replied immediately. He couldn't help smiling at Bertram. 'I wish to become ... no more than I was born to be.'

'That is no answer, Pilot. You've told us nothing.'

For a moment, in the light flashing from Danlo's deep blue eyes, there was everything. And then he said, 'I want only to be ... a true human being.'

'But what does that mean?'

'There is a word that my Fravashi teacher once gave me,' Danlo said. 'The ... asarya. This is a man who could say "yes" to everything about being human.'

This answer seemed to satisfy many of the assembled Elders, who nodded their heads and fell with buzzing voices into a hundred separate conversations. But Bertram looked out at the Elders of the Koivuniemin and then turned to Harrah Ivi en li Ede. 'Our Holy Ivi has said that this Danlo wi Soli Ringess has spoken truly. Has he indeed? If we are to consider all that he has told us, we must be certain that he really is who he says he is. Perhaps we should invite him into a cleansing cell that we might read the truth or falsity of his words. I – or many other Elders – would be honoured to offer my services at such a reading.'

Bertram's little mouth puckered as with the anticipation of sucking on a bloodfruit. He looked at Jedrek Iviongeon and several other Iviomils who shared his cruel intentions.

'At this time,' Harrah Ivi en li Ede said, 'that will not be necessary.'

'But we must know the truth!'

'We, also, desire to know the truth about the Pilot,' Harrah said. 'And the truth about all that he has told us.'

'There is only one truth, Holy Ivi.'

'But there are many paths toward this holy place,' she reminded him.

So saying, she turned to look at Danlo sitting alone at his long plastic table. Her face was thoughtful, provocative and sad – but otherwise wholly unreadable. Danlo watched the eyes of a thousand Elders looking back and forth between Harrah and him, and he sensed that he was about to be tested yet again.

A similar problem concerns the Doctrine (or Program) of the Halting. This is the teaching that the halt state of the universe will occur when Ede has absorbed and become co-extensive with the universe. But according to the ancient mathematics, there can be no universal algorithm for deciding whether or not a Turing machine will ever reach its halt state. Therefore it is impossible to know scientifically that Ede will in fact become the Universe-as-God. There can be no proper reconciliation of this vital doctrine with scientific theory unless God is seen as an infinite being outside space and time. The cybernetic theologians usually have seen God in this way. When Ede becomes God at the end of the universe, time will stop and Ede will exist in eternity. In some sense, Ede already is eternal, and thus He exists in all times at once. Since this is so, he is privileged to foreknow the halt state of the universe and all states leading to this singularity in time. Thus his pronouncement, 'I am God', can be seen not merely as a prophecy of the future and a visualization of the halt state, but as a present validation of Ede's eternal being in the omniscient and the divine.

-Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1,754th Edition. Tenth Revised Standard Version

While the world of Tannahill turned slowly on its axis and Danlo sat patiently watching Harrah Ivi en li Ede, she bowed her head to one of the keepers who stood ready to minister to her desires. The keeper – a handsome young man who might have been her grandson – bowed his head in return. Then he left the dais and walked over to the rear door by which Harrah had entered the Hall. With the strong, crisp motions of one who is certain of his body, he opened this door, beckoned to the two men who waited in the anteroom behind it and led them out into the Hall, right over to the table of honour where Danlo was watching them with all the intensity of a thallow searching the skies for a brother bird. Although the sudden appearance of these men caused the assembled Elders to crane their necks and gasp in astonishment, Danlo remained clear-eyed and calm. He smiled at these newcomers and bowed his head in acceptance of the logic of their presence. For he knew these men. They were, of course, Sivan wi Mawi Sarkissian, the renegade pilot, and the warrior-poet, Malaclypse Redring of Qallar. They had followed him thousands of light years across the stars, and Danlo watched with great amusement as the keeper pulled out their chairs and sat them at the table of honour almost next to Danlo.

At least one of the Elders, however, was not even slightly amused. The Elder Bertram Jaspari jumped up from his chair, astonishment and outrage upon his face.

'Who are these men?' he demanded. He pointed at Sivan. 'Namans, obviously – this one is dressed as barbarically as the Pilot! From what world do they come? Why weren't we informed that they had made planetfall? How is it that they are brought into the Koivuniemin's Hall, and no mention of this event is made on today's agenda?'

The other Elders shifted in their chairs to look at Sivan and Malaclypse. Danlo looked, too. In truth, he never took his eyes off the warrior-poet, who, in turn, stared deeply into Danlo's eyes as if to say: 'No matter where in the universe you may journey, Pilot, no matter how far you fall, your fate is joined to mine.' According to the warrior-poets' ways, Malaclypse wore a long kimono in honour of the Architects' style of dress. But because he was a warrior-poet of great accomplishment, this singular garment was not white, but rather woven of scarlet, sapphire and gold – and a hundred other hues. Everything about the warrior-poet fairly shimmered with colour. He wore a red ring on the little finger of either hand. His eyes were the same deep and vivid violet that Danlo remembered so well. With these marvellous eyes, the warrior-poet searched the room, looking first at Danlo, then at Bertram and moving quickly over to Harrah Ivi en li Ede poised so mysteriously behind her reading desk. As always, there was death in the warrior-poet's gaze, as he waited ever ready either to die himself or to bring any man or woman whom he must assassinate to his moment of the possible.

These Architects fear the warrior-poet, Danlo thought. But they do not truly know why they fear him.

With a wave of her hand, Harrah Ivi en li Ede motioned for Bertram to sit down. Then she introduced both Sivan and Malaclypse Redring. Although she apologized for not informing the Elders that she had called these two namans to the Hall of the Koivuniemin, she clearly did not regret her decision. Danlo understood immediately that this was a display of her power.

'It would seem that Malaclypse Redring of Qallar comes to us on a mission, as does the Pilot,' Harrah said to the Elders. 'The Order of Warrior-Poets, it seems, desires to re-establish relations with our Church. What an extraordinary coincidence that representatives of two such venerable Orders should find our world at the same time after fifteen hundred years of being lost to us! What a coincidence that the warrior-poet seems to know this pilot! We have asked Malaclypse Redring into our Hall that you may explore these coincidences. Here they sit, at the table of honour, so that you may honour them by asking them questions. As Our Eternal Ede has said, there is always a way toward the truth.'

At this, Danlo locked eyes with Sivan wi Mawi Sarkissian. Sivan was dressed as Danlo had first seen him at Mer Tadeo's party on Farfara, in plain grey garments of no distinctive cut or style. Years ago, when he had forsaken the Order, he had surrendered his pilot's robes. But he had not surrendered his black diamond pilot's ring; a pilot and his ring, as the saying goes, are forever. With this almost indestructible ring Sivan now rapped the edge of the table. He bowed his head to Danlo, an acknowledgement of Danlo's great feat in piloting his lightship through the Vild and finding Tannahill. In turn, Danlo touched his own ring to the plastic table. He smiled and bowed to Sivan. For Sivan to have followed him halfway across the galaxy was an almost impossible accomplishment. The two pilots stared at each other for a long time. Between them there was an immediate understanding. They shared memories of the terrors of the manifold as well as the spires and the icy streets of Neverness. They were both strangers and outsiders on this lost world. And yet, despite their strange camaraderie, Danlo could never forget that this renegade pilot served Malaclypse Redring – the great warrior-poet who was his nemesis, his shadow, his enemy.

'I should like to question the warrior-poet.'

This came from an Elder Architect named Nashota ivi Astaret, a big, stern woman well-known to the Koivuniemin for making long and boring speeches as to the duty of all women fulfilling the obligations laid down in the logics. She was also, as everyone knew, a prominent Iviomil, the confidant and mouthpiece of Bertram Jaspari. 'I should like to ask him how he knows this pilot.'

At first it was not easy for Malaclypse to make his responses understood. Although the warrior-poets are noted for their silver tongues, Malaclypse had only learned the language of the Architects in preparation for his journey into the Vild. Unlike Danlo, who had absorbed this language from living men and women on Alumit Bridge, the warrior-poet had learned the ancient Church Istwan spoken at the time of the Long Pilgrimage. Over fifteen hundred years, this language had changed greatly and so Malaclypse's speech was stived with misinflections, malapropisms, and archaic terminology. His accent was very thick. However, as Nashota ivi Astaret continued to question him, he listened carefully. He was very quick, very smart. Moment by moment, it seemed, the words flowing out of his mouth like liquid silver were articulated with more modern rhythms and a shift in the sounds of the vowels. He abandoned such locutions as 'Holy Exalted Elder' in favour of more proper forms of address. With both charm and aplomb, he spoke of many things to the Elders of the Koivuniemin. After he had told of Danlo's and his meeting on Farfara, he told of his Order's ancient enmity with the Order of Mystic Mathematicians, of how the warrior-poets had once sided with the Old Church against the Reformed Cybernetic Churches in the War of the Faces and implied that the warrior-poets had indeed aided the Old Church in designing the virus that had caused the Great Plague. This news caused near-havoc among the Elders. From dozens of curving tables came cries of disbelief and outrage. At last – and yet again – Bertram Jaspari pushed his chair back and took the floor. He pointed his finger at Malaclypse and said, 'We must ask the warrior-poet a question.'

Harrah Ivi en li Ede nodded.

'By your own words, your Order has been the enemy of the Pilot's Order for thousands of years. Why should we believe what you say?'

At this, Malaclypse let his marvellous violet eyes play across Bertram's face. And then, in a deep, clear voice vibrating with utter certainty, he said, 'We warrior-poets are taught three things: how to kill; how to die; and how to tell the truth.'

The Elder Architects sat quietly in their chairs, and no one moved.

'Why have you come to our world?' Bertram asked softly.

'The simple answer is that my Order would like to renew its ancient relation with your Church,' Malaclypse said.

'Is there a more complicated answer?'

'As with an onion, there are always layers of complication.' Malaclypse said. 'The universe is infinitely complex.'

He comes to make enemies between my Order and the Church, Danlo suddenly knew. That is the first of his purposes.

'Perhaps we could peel back these layers to uncover the truth,' Bertram said.

'There is always a way toward the truth,' Malaclypse agreed, saying nothing – and perhaps everything, too.

Bertram stared at Malaclypse as if he had suddenly acquired the skills of a cetic and could read the warrior-poet's face. 'From what we understand of your Order, you warrior-poets share nothing in common with our Holy Church.'

'Nothing?'

Bertram hesitated. 'We can think of nothing.'

'Then we must indeed perform some more onion peeling,' Malaclypse said. 'For both my Order and your Church share one crucial purpose.'

'And what is that?'

'We, as well as you, are disturbed by the growth of the galaxy's gods.'

'There are no gods!' Bertram said immediately and angrily. 'No god is there but God; God is one, and there can be only one God.'

'And the name of God,' Malaclypse said, 'is Ede, the Eternal, the Infinite, the Architect of the Universe.'

'You are familiar with the Algorithm?'

'We warrior-poets always seek the poetic. In the Algorithm we have sometimes found the most sublime poetry.'

'It's a mistake to hear the words of the Algorithm as mere poetry,' Bertram said. Despite the rebuke in his voice, the warrior-poet's words obviously pleased him. 'Poetry, however sublime, is made by man. But the Algorithm was given to us by Ede the God.'

'"He will hammer the heavens and the stars will ring",' Malaclypse said, quoting from The Birth of Ede the God. 'It's difficult to hear this as other than poetry, is it not? Surely you can't picture Ede as some son of infinitely vastened human being floating out in the cosmos with a gigantic hammer in his hand?'

'But He will hammer the heavens,' Bertram said. 'We must take these words in truth as they were given to us.'

'But in what way are these words true?'

'We must accept this verse literally without asking in what way it is true.'

'But wouldn't many in your Church dispute this? Don't your Elidis teach that the Algorithm must be read like poetry if the voice of Ede is to be heard inside the heart?'

Here, Bertram looked over at a nearby table and snatched a quick, poisonous look at Kissiah en li Ede, the most prominent Elder Architect of the Elidi sect, who sat smiling like a buddha as if he agreed with all that Malaclypse had said.

'You seem to know much about our Church,' Bertram observed as he looked at the warrior-poet.

'I know that you do not countenance the galaxy's gods,' Malaclypse said. And then, uttering the hated word, he continued, 'I know that you would cleanse the universe of all hakras.'

'What do you know of the hakra devils?'

'Don't many women and men aspire to the godhead? Aren't there would-be gods everywhere?'