The Best of All Possible Worlds (14 page)

“Good morning,” I said in Sadiri.

She looked confused and shy. “Good morning,” she answered hesitantly in my local dialect.
“I will bring water for you to wash and your clothes so you can dress.”

I realized my backpack must have made the journey when I saw that the clothes she
brought were those I had been carrying, not wearing. When I finished my simple cold-water
ablutions and got dressed, she brought me a number of items in baskets, laid them
neatly alongside a wall, and departed.

“Brilliant!” I said first, recognizing the contents of my backpack, undamaged by water.
Those Forestry types know how to design proper gear.

“Blast it,” I said next. There was a carefully wrapped bundle of material that, when
unfolded, revealed the many many fragments of my handheld. No quick message sending.
Speaking of which, where
was
my comm?

Dllenahkh came into my room, no doubt in response to my cry of dismay. “Hey, Dllenahkh,”
I said cheerfully. “They have
women
here! You
can’t
keep this treasure from the other Sadiri. But I’m surprised it’s a mixed community.
Don’t these kinds of groups separate the sexes so they won’t get distracted from philosophizing
or something?”

Dllenahkh folded his hands into his sleeves, an action that brought to my attention
the fact that he was now wearing a robe very similar to the local style. “As they
rarely use shielding among themselves, they are already aware of each others’ minds,
and physical separation would not serve any purpose. Instead, they have an integrated
society—celibates, singles, wedded couples, and children—all in full telepathic communication.”

“What a way to live!” I exclaimed. “I bet
some
areas stay shielded, like the couples’ quarters.”

Before I could laugh at my own words, I saw Dllenahkh’s lips twitch in a way that
was all too familiar to me.

“I see,” I said soberly. “I have
got
to stop laughing at things. They’re turning out to be true too often for comfort.
Now, have you asked them how we’re going to get back?”

“Have you eaten the morning meal as yet?” he asked.

“No,” I said, frowning. “Did you just avoid my question?”

“I would prefer to discuss it over breakfast,” he replied.

He knew where to go. As I followed him, I noticed that in spite of the near silence
of the place, the few people we encountered directly greeted us verbally, sometimes
in Sadiri, sometimes in my own dialect. The men kept their heads clean shaven, and
the women allowed themselves only a shadow’s length, like the girl I had seen earlier.
Not all wore robes, but all garments were of solid colors and in simple styles. In
contrast to this superficial uniformity, their faces and bodies were strikingly, variably
expressive, a constant reminder of the thousands of ongoing conversations that I could
not hear.

After passing through a kind of communal refectory and gathering
a tray of fruits, grains, broth, and tea, we found ourselves on a balcony that looked
down a green gully with a small window of blue sky at the end. The trees dripped moisture,
though the early morning mist was quickly burning off as the day warmed up. The breeze
was cool, the view breathtaking, and the company … enigmatic. He ignored my questioning
looks and urged me to eat. Only when nothing but lukewarm tea remained to be consumed
did he sit back slightly on his heels and look reflective.

“I was once closely connected to a monastery on Sadira, what you would term an oblate.
Although I worked as a government official and lived in secular society, my free time
was devoted to the study of the mind and its potential.”

I forgot my cooling tea and listened avidly. I had never dared ask any Sadiri about
their life before the disaster, and though I knew Dllenahkh better than any of them,
all my knowledge of him was newly minted, scarcely over a year old.

“My time on Cygnus Beta has been spent similarly. I work in the local government of
the homesteadings, and I teach the disciplines at various levels. Mainly, because
I cannot be everywhere, I train others to teach.”

“It sounds to me,” I said very softly, loath to interrupt him, “as if you are among
the most advanced of the savants on Cygnus Beta.”

He seemed to ponder momentarily. “I would say your assessment is correct, with one
exception. I have not sought the highest levels: the development of the skill required
to pilot a mindship.”

“May I ask why not?”

He looked at me as though it were obvious.

“Unlike the Zhinuvians, who link and delink from their technology with ease, Sadiri
pilots are uniquely bonded to their ships. I do not wish to deny myself the profound
bond that may be experienced in the connection between human minds.”

He paused and gazed at the distant patch of sky framed by leaf and vine. “For me,
finding this place is like finding a treasure. I
have
asked about leaving. There is no problem with us doing so. They only require that
we leave behind all memory of this place so that it may remain hidden.”

I pursed my lips. I wasn’t comfortable with gaps in my memory for obvious reasons,
yet I could see that maintaining the security of this community was more important
than my own personal issues. “Very well. When can we go?”

He gave me an intent look. “But must we go?”

I was aghast. He was serious. “Dllenahkh,
I
can’t stay. I—
we
have people depending on us to return.”

He spoke abruptly, almost an interruption. “While I appreciate that Cygnians are capable
of forming attachments within a very short time period, I believe that Tonio—”

I cut him off, stung at his obtuseness. “I was talking about Rafi. I think even Sadiri
understand family responsibility. And don’t you think Joral depends on you too?”

“Joral understands that he can rely on the guidance of any elder Sadiri of our community—”

“Yes,” I said impatiently, “but they won’t be
you
. You guys are like family, you know?”

“There are so few of us left that
all
Sadiri may be considered family,” he said stubbornly.

“Then why cause him pain by letting him think you’re dead?” I said gently.

Dllenahkh said nothing, but I saw a flicker in his gaze that suggested I had scored
a hit. After a short silence, he said, “Since you insist on returning, you could tell
him that I am alive.”

“After they wipe my memories?” I said sarcastically.

His look was determined and perhaps a touch irritated. “You will not forget this.
I will see to it.”

I went back to my room and packed up my things, even the bits of broken handheld.
When I came out again, Dllenahkh was there with an elderly monk who looked at my readiness
and smiled slightly.

“Few choose to stay with us. This is to be expected. It is not a life that everyone
can understand.”

I felt more than mere courtesy compelling me to reply, and I did so in my best ceremonial
Sadiri. “Few are truly free of obligations and responsibilities to others. Otherwise
they would stay, if only for a while, because your harmonious society soothes both
mind and spirit.”

He inclined his head in gracious acknowledgment of both the words and the sincerity.

“And yet I wonder,” I went on, emboldened by his gentleness, “why your secrecy is
so important—important enough to tamper with a person’s mind.”

Dllenahkh began to frown, clearly considering this rudeness, but the monk bowed his
head in apology, accepting the seriousness of the question. “We tried, once, to be
open to the world. The effects on the community were distressing. You see, many people
believed that we were the Caretakers and began to demand of us more than we could
provide.”

“And you are not—”

“We are not now, nor have we ever been, the Caretakers,” he declared solemnly.

I almost sighed in disappointment. I had no strong feelings about the matter, but
I had the usual amount of curiosity.

“Their powers are far beyond us,” he continued.

“So you
have
met them?” I asked quickly.

He smiled. “I really couldn’t say.”

He led us out of the building and into an orderly garden of green grass, dark rock,
and low clusters of pale gold flowers. A
central gravel path led to a glass-smooth pool that appeared to have no edge but blue
horizon. I felt a tiny surge of worry.

“There is no safer way?” Dllenahkh inquired sharply.

“None that outsiders may see,” was the placid response.

The monks walk on water and fly through the treetops
. “So, this
is
what I think it is,” I said in leaden tones.

“She has only recently recovered. How can you be sure she is strong enough?” Dllenahkh
turned to me suddenly. “Delarua, stay.”

“No, Dllenahkh. Rafi, remember? Joral. Qeturah. Even my sister Maria, who probably
wishes me dead. And yes, even Tonio, who I’ve known for all of two weeks.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” he declared.

“Don’t.” I shook my head. “Don’t do this; don’t make me feel that I stood between
you and your dream.”

His look of resolve told me he had already made up his mind. “If I am permitted, I
will return some day, after I have completed my assignment. You were right, Delarua.
There are people depending on us to return, and it was a lapse on my part to persuade
myself otherwise.”

I glanced at the monk. He stood looking at us, as unsurprised as if he had known Dllenahkh’s
mind before Dllenahkh had known it himself. I took in a huge breath of relief.

“Well, then, what are you waiting for?” I said with a grin. “Get your stuff.”

I walked the gardens with the monk while Dllenahkh was away. I know we had a good
in-depth conversation, because I felt lighthearted at the end of it, and I’ve learned
to trust my emotions. He must have taken particular care to remove all trace of his
presence in my mind, because I cannot remember a single thing that we spoke about.
I do remember when Dllenahkh returned, once more outfitted as a member of the mission
team. My
mind felt a space clearing, as if a single drop of oil had touched and spread, pushing
back all other influence.

I looked at the monk, knowing but needing to hear him say it. He smiled and gestured
at the pool.

“Walk on water. Fly through the treetops. Farewell.”

Indiana Jones holovid fans, eat your heart out. We did not walk; we ran. Our feet
struck the water firmly, gripped impossibly, and propelled us to the horizon at the
pool’s far edge. We hurtled into an element that should have destroyed us: high-vaulted
air with a breeze too light for the wingless to hope.

And yet we soared.

We swooped down the narrow valley, following the line of the river as if it were an
arrow to our destination. I was tempted to look back to see if there was a line of
robed figures just beyond the edge of the pool, wafting us gently homeward, but I
knew that was just a silly cinematic image, possibly a memory from some ancient holovid.
So I looked forward in wonder, seeing the kind of bird’s-eye view of the landscape
that even a shuttle can’t give.

Some
people, of course, have to prove they can’t be awed by anything.

“Telekinesis is a natural consequence of intensive psionic development,” he remarked
after a minute or so.

“Shut up! You’re spoiling it!” I screamed. (I may also have shrieked “Wheee” at some
point. I admit nothing.)

However smooth our descent as we followed the water down, I began to realize something.
“I think we’re going to get wet again—aughhhhh!”

But it was only to our knees, and the current was comparatively tame. As we slogged
to the nearest bank, heavy and earth-bound once more, I heard the most beautiful sound,
the chirp of my own missing comm, miraculously coming from Dllenahkh’s
pocket. He had the decency to look slightly ashamed as he fished it out of hiding
and answered the automated emergency call. When he signed off, I held out my hand
accusingly, thinking of my conveniently smashed handheld. He placed the comm on my
palm with a small, regretful smile that made me relent.

“He was right. There was no need to worry about me. You could have stayed,” I admitted.

“I believe I acted appropriately,” he replied, both smile and regret erased from his
features. “It would not be helpful to hold dual loyalties at this stage.”

I wanted to believe him, so I dropped the subject before I could persuade myself otherwise.
After that, the only thing left to do was find a shuttle-size clearing, sit, and wait.

It was a grand reunion. There was the expected hugging (by some of us at least!) and
mutual relief and general elation at being home safe and sound. Only Qeturah looked
grim and almost tearful, and it struck me that she must have convinced herself that
she had been responsible for sending us to our deaths. I gave her a tiny chastising
shake of the head for thinking such folly. It turned out, however, that she had other
things on her mind.

“There’s someone waiting to speak to you on the shuttle comm,” she said.

I perked up even more. Rafi! Excusing myself hastily, I ran to the shuttle and quickly
keyed on the monitor.

“Grace.”

Maria’s eyes looked shadowed, as if she had been crying and might start again without
warning.

“Hey, Maria,” I said tentatively. I really had no idea what to say.

She smiled weakly. “Good to see you alive and well.”

I gave a small smile that wasn’t entirely kind. “Thought I was dead?”

The stricken look that flashed across her face convinced me—she
had
wished it. I exhaled and looked away, tears stinging my eyes.

“Look, I—”

“Grace, please—”

We stopped talking. “You first,” I said eventually.

“Okay,” she said, and took a big breath, bracing herself. “I … we’ve got a long road
ahead of us, me and Gracie. The influence went on for so long, they can’t just put
things back the way they should be. Rafi’s all right, though. He—he’s more like you.
Grace, you must promise me, if I can’t take care of him, if they try to take him from
me, you’ll look out for him? Be his guardian? I’ll sign whatever I have to. I just
want him to be with family.”