Until the Celebration (12 page)

That they had come so far, that so many enormously shattering changes had taken place without major tragedies was, in itself, a triumph, although there were certainly many problems as yet unsolved, and great dangers still to be faced. There were still, almost daily, times when the future hung in the balance, so delicately poised between growth and disaster that the smallest thing—the carcass of a trencher bird on an Erdling hearth-fire, or the whispered use of the hated word “Pash-shan”—could plunge the entire planet into a catastrophe too terrible to be imagined.

Hiro returned to his task at the table-boards, but he had accomplished little when his bond-partner, Jorda, appeared in the doorway.

“It is far past the hour for food-taking,” she said. “Will you eat and rest now, before the meeting of the Council?” Coming to him, she took his hands and pulled him down to sit beside her on a bench of woven tendril. “You will be ill, Hiro.”

Shaking his head impatiently, Hiro began to deny the truth of Jorda’s warning, but an overwhelming sensation of exhaustion made him close his eyes and lean his head against the benchback. Jorda pressed her palms to his and, although he could not pense, he was vividly aware of her sharing of his weariness and anxiety.

“You are right,” Hiro said. “I forget that my strength is no longer as limitless as it was in our youth hall days. You do well to remind me that I no longer have such endurance. The years have brought changes.”

“It is remarkable that you have endured at all,” Jorda said. “These last three years—two in exile in Erda and now these last months with so great a burden of responsibility. Any other would be dead by now, or far gone in Berry-dreaming.” She rose suddenly. “Rest,” she said. “I will bring food here, to your chamber.”

Closing his eyes, Hiro had begun the ritual of relaxation when the doorhangings were again thrust aside and Neric paced into the chamber.

“I am sorry to disturb you,” Neric said. “Jorda said you were resting, but there are matters than can’t wait.”

Hiro looked at the taut, eager face and sighed inwardly. So much was owed to this young man, and yet—there were times when the sharp edges of Neric’s convictions were bruising to those who were close to him.

“What is it, Neric?” Hiro asked.

“It concerns the crew of workmen who were promised from Upper Erda to work on the amphitheater. The city-master promised fifty to be at the clearing by the seventh hour, and they have not yet arrived. The clearing of fern and rooftree is far behind schedule, and many of the stages and platforms are only partially completed. The wreaths and garlands cannot be hung until the clearing is completed and—”

“Could extra Kindar workers be assigned to take the place of the Erdlings?”

“It has already been tried. But the tasks remaining are those that require the use of Erdling tools. Many of the Kindar workers are still unskilled in their use, and some even now refuse to use them.”

“Refuse to use Erdling tools?”

“Yes. Because they are of metal and formed by fire. Some claim such tools are infused with evil powers.”

Hiro’s sigh was, to say the least, unjoyful, and would have been perhaps better described by the Erdling term “angry.” “Who spreads such tales still?” he demanded. “I thought we had stopped such rumors long ago.”

“Who knows? Rumors fly thicker than moon-moths at dusk. A few Kindar have injured themselves recently on the sharp edges of certain Erdling instruments, through carelessness or a lack of skill. But the rumors do not seem to arise from such logical causes.”

“What would you have me do?” Hiro asked, after a moment’s silence.

Neric’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the impatience and weariness in Hiro’s voice. “If you send a messenger to Kir Oblan, or one of the other Erdling Councilors, perhaps they could urge the Erdling workmen to report to the amphitheater.”

“Perhaps. I shall see what I can do. But, as you well know, Erdlings are apt to respond to directives in their own way and at their own timing. But I shall send the message.”

Neric raised both hands in a gesture of thankfulness and turned abruptly toward the doorway. Then, stopping just as abruptly, he came back, gesturing to the laden tables. “How is it progressing?” he asked. “Have you been able to review all the petitions?”

“Nearly all. I have almost finished selecting the issues that must be placed before the Council today. We are to meet at the twelfth hour.” He turned back to the tables, but Neric lingered near the doorway, seemingly uncertain whether to go or stay. For a time Hiro ignored his presence, hoping that there would be no more—no other crises to be faced. But still Neric hesitated. Hiro closed his eyes and breathed slowly and deeply before he turned, smiling.

“And—?”

The younger man’s eyes blinked rapidly and then fell in confusion. “I—I have no wish to trouble you further,” he said. “And it may be of little importance. I cannot see that there is anything that can be done, but ...

Hiro waited.

“It concerns Axon Befal. It seems he has disappeared.”

“Disappeared? How could he disappear?”

“He has not been seen for almost a month. The nid-place to which he was assigned at the time of his banishment, in the surface city of Farbelo, is abandoned. And he has not been reporting to his place of service.”

“For almost a month? How is it that we have not been informed?”

“I don’t know. I heard of it only through rumor, but when I spoke of it this morning to an Erdling Councilor whom I happened to meet on a branchpath, he seemed to know of it. Though he seemed to think it was a matter of no great consequence. He said that Befal had probably decided to live alone in the forest, and that it was no concern of the Council’s as long as he did not return to Orbora.”

Hiro nodded. “Possibly. But I cannot see Axon living as a recluse—”

“Nor I.”

“Yet the same was said of Regle when he fled Orbora. And he has not returned to spread dissension as we feared he would do.” Hiro sighed deeply. “And so, now, there is another who has fled—to return constantly in dark imaginings.”

“But surely there can be no connection, no common conspiracy. Not between Regle and Axon.”

“It would seem unlikely,” Hiro said. “Although they do have a trait in common—the lust for power.”

“I know,” Neric said. “It has occurred to me.”

It was then that Jorda returned bearing a tray of food and drink, and behind her came Raamo. He approached Hiro uncertainly and offered his palms in greeting.

“You are much troubled,” he said, “and I am sorry to come here to add to your worries.” His dark gaze flowed outward as he pensed Hiro’s exhaustion.

Hiro smiled. “I will rest soon—after the Celebration. What is it that you must tell me?”

“It concerns the banners,” Raamo said. “The banners that are being hung along the great branchways, proclaiming the Celebration.”

“Banners? What is it concerning banners that could be of such importance?”

Raamo’s face flushed. “It will seem unimportant,” he said, “but it is not. It is that some of the banners—many of them—are naming the ceremony the Celebration of the Holy Children, instead of the Rejoyning, as was decreed by the Council.”

Hiro turned to Neric. “What do you know of this?” he asked.

Neric was smiling. “But little,” he said. “The official banners speak of the Rejoyning, but there are many others, prepared by guilds and societies and halls—Erdling groups as well as Kindar. You know, Raamo, the great Love and honor there is for Teera and Pomma throughout Green-sky. It seems to me only to be expected that some should wish to name the ceremony in their honor.” Turning to Hiro he said, “Raamo has spoken to me concerning the adoration of the children, but I must confess that I have seen only good arise from it.”

“I do not understand it in a way that can be spoken,” Raamo said, “but I feel there is harm in it.” Out of old habit, he held out his hands inviting Neric to try to grasp through mind-touch that which would not be captured in words. But Neric drew back. Once he and Raamo had been able to pense freely, but in recent months Neric’s skill had been failing. Now he pretended not to notice Raamo’s offered palms.

Jorda had been looking at Raamo with great intensity. Turning to Hiro, she grasped his arm. “Can you do anything about the banners?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I can remind the Councilors of the true name of the Celebration and ask that that name only be used in the ceremonies and rituals—but I don’t think that they will feel it wise to replace banners or demand that they be changed.”

Raamo was clearly still troubled, but it was only too obvious that Hiro must have some time to rest before presiding over the Council meeting.

“Come, Neric, let us go,” Raamo said. “If you are going towards the public buildings, I will go with you. I would like to speak to you further.”

Farewells were spoken, and the young men departed. Having eaten hastily and finished the classification of the petitions, there remained to Hiro a short time before the hour of the Council. Gratefully he gave his body to the soft comfort of his nid. Sleep came almost at once, but it was not without dreams.

H
IRO. YOU MUST WAKE
up. It will soon be time for the meeting of the Council.” It was Jorda’s voice, and it reached Hiro dimly at first, as from a great distance. For what seemed a very long time, he struggled upward towards consciousness through a thick fog of dreams. Dream images, fleeting, fading fragments, swarmed before him until, at last, his eyes opened and Jorda’s anxious troubled face replaced the thronging shadows.

“You sleep so restlessly,” Jorda was saying. “You turn and shake your head and cry out in your sleep.

“I was dreaming,” Hiro said. “I feel as if I have been dreaming for days.” Sighing, he climbed down from his nid and, reaching out for his bond partner, he drew her to him. They stood quietly for a time, encircled in each other’s arms, drawing strength from the power of their communion.

“Of what were you dreaming?” Jorda asked.

“Of many things. Many things. The past, the far past, and the long months since the Rejoyning. But just as you awakened me, I was dreaming of the two children whom I saw earlier.”

“The children? What children?”

“Two little boys. They were playing on the branch-path just outside my balcony this morning. One of them was obviously Erdling. In my dream they were again on the branchpath, playing roughly and running in circles, just as they were before and Í was watching them. But suddenly—in my dream—I knew it was terribly important that I talk to them. I knew that they were going to fall, and I felt that I must talk to them before it happened. So I ran from the chamber and all the way through the nid-place, calling to them to wait, but just as I reached the branchpath, I saw them at the very edge clinging together. And then, before I could reach them, they fell—just as they did this morning.”

“They really fell? Oh, Hiro,” Jorda said. “The Erdling child? Do you think he was injured?”

“No,” Hiro said. “I could see them as they fell. The Erdling boy clearly was not adept at gliding, but when I last saw him, he was gliding. I’m sure he reached the forest floor without injury.”

Jorda sighed with relief. “It frightens me to think of them. They might as well be without wing-panels for all they are able to make use of them.”

Turning away, Hiro went to the window and stood for a moment looking out into the forest distances.

“What is it?” Jorda’s voice broke into his musing.

“I was thinking of Axon Befal. This morning Neric brought news of him. He has disappeared from his place of exile in Farbelo. It seems that he has been gone for some time, and the Erdling guards who were assigned to him did not report his absence to the Council.”

“But why? Why would the guards fail to report his absence?”

“Who can say? Perhaps they feared they would be blamed. The Erdling Councilor to whom Neric spoke seemed to think it was only because they felt it was of little importance whether Axon lived in exile in Farbelo or in the open forest, as long as he did not return to Orbora.”

“But how can they know that he will not return? At any time he could come back to Orbora to—to do again what was done to Wassou.”

“True,” Hiro said. “At any time.”

It occurred to him, suddenly, that there might be reason to believe that Axon had already returned. He had almost put it from his mind, but now he remembered a troubling thing that Raamo had told him. Raamo had spoken of how, as he was returning from visiting the new Erdling Garden, he had suddenly received a strong pensing of evil, although the area around him appeared to be deserted. Then he had seen—or thought he had—a movement in a thicket of Vine and leaf, and had leaped from the branch without waiting to see more.

At the time, Hiro had thought—had hoped, at least— that Raamo had been mistaken. But now it seemed possible, likely even, that Raamo had indeed pensed evil; an evil so terrible that, if it had succeeded it might well have meant the end of hope and the beginning of chaos. Hiro shuddered, thinking not only of Raamo, himself, but of the barrier his blood would have been between Kindar and Erdling—a barrier more insurmountable than the Root had ever been.

“It may be,” he told Jorda, “that Axon has already attempted another attack.”

He told her then of Raamo’s suspicion that someone had been lying in wait on the high branchpath; and as he spoke, Jorda’s face told him that she too realized what the consequences might have been.

“What will you do?” she asked. “What can be done by the Council?”

“I don’t know,” Hiro said. “I will, of course, bring up the matter in the meeting today. Perhaps there is no cause for worry. Perhaps the Erdling guards are right and Axon has only gone to live in the open forest. Let us resolve to trouble ourselves no more until we know there is reason.”

But a few minutes later, when the messengers had arrived to carry the scrolls and tablets to the assembly hall, and Hiro was ready, dressed in the green shuba of a Councilor, with the gold seal of the Chief Mediator about his neck, he turned back suddenly to his bond partner.