Jango (16 page)

Shab struck again and again, and missed each time. The watching men began to laugh. Shab turned a deep red and threw himself into a hurricane of blows. Not one landed. The Wildman stood there, his eyes on Shab's, and never moved.

The laughter became loud and mocking. The Wild-man realized he must end it now, for Shab's sake. He raised two fingers and, without touching him, forced Shab to his knees, then forced his head to bow down where he knelt.

The laughter died. None of them had ever seen such an absolute demonstration of power. Shab stayed kneeling, silent, defeated, humiliated. Caressa's eyes shone.

"Still the best, Wildman," she said. "And only the best is good enough for me."

The Wildman said nothing. It seemed he was still a Noma, whether he wanted it or not. He possessed the power, but he was not subject to the Rule. He could use his power for anything he chose.

The prospect did not excite him. He was weary and confused and couldn't say what it was he wanted.

Maybe he'd know tomorrow.

Moving with slow care, he went back into the rest house and felt for his discarded clothing. Now he was dressed in the bold flaunting colors of the bandits and had no need of the plain gray garments. He carried the bundle of wet clothing to the fire, and one by one he burned the fragments of his recent past.

But he kept his badan.

S
EEKER LAY IN THE DARKNESS OF THE UNDERGROUND
room in the Nom and waited for the Community to reach its decision. Whatever that decision was, he knew that he would obey. What use were his new powers to him except in the service of the All and Only?

Then at last, late in the night, he heard a key turn in the lock of the heavy door and the creak of the door as it opened. A soft ray of light flowed into the room. Seeker jumped to his feet, expecting the return of the Elder.

It was Narrow Path, carrying a lantern.

He closed the door behind him but did not lock it. The light from the lantern threw deep shadows upwards over his bony face, giving it the look of a skull.

"Has the Community decided?" said Seeker.

"Yes."

Narrow Path held up his lantern and looked round the room, to assure himself that they were alone. Satisfied, he turned his attention to Seeker.

"You are to be cleansed in the morning."

Seeker felt a shock go through him. He bowed his head in the sign of obedience; but as the shock passed, in its place came a secret stir of rebellion.

"The Community has decided my powers are too dangerous?"

"It has been so decided. After long debate."

"The Elder, too?"

"The Elder has been told that one of your friends has fled from the Nom. He was shocked to hear it. He took it as a sign."

"So it is," said Seeker. "The Wildman was my responsibility. The Elder told me so when we were both admitted to the Nom. He's gone, and so I must go."

With his words he seemed to accept the verdict, but in his heart he was not obedient. He did not want to be cleansed.

"Such is the decision of the Community," said Narrow Path. "But I believe that decision to be wrong."

"Wrong!"

"I am not here on the instructions of the Elder or the Community. I am here to save the Nom."

Seeker looked at the gaunt face of the Noma in astonishment. Narrow Path, so well known for his austere and unwavering observance of the Rule, was the last member of the Community he would expect to break the vow of obedience.

"How?"

"The first time you entered the Nom," said Narrow Path, "before you were a novice, I was the one who found you."

"I remember."

"I feared it even then," said Narrow Path. "I wanted it not to be so. I wanted to believe you were no more than a disobedient child, snooping where you had no business to go. But I was wrong. You are the one we've been waiting for. You have come to save us."

Seeker no longer knew what to think. Narrow Path spoke the very words that were always before him. But if Narrow Path knew this, why did the Elder not know it, too?

"We are in mortal danger," said Narrow Path. "Our enemy is preparing to strike."

Shock upon shock: Seeker could only stare.

"How do I know these things? Because you have come. You would not have been revealed to us unless the need was desperate."

"But what am I?" said Seeker, struggling to understand. "Who am I?"

"You? You are nobody. You have no significance. All that matters is that you have been given the power, and that you use it."

He came very close to Seeker and whispered with a terrible intensity. "You must kill our enemy."

"Who is our enemy?"

"The old enemy who has stalked us through the years and has sworn to destroy us."

"The Assassin?"

"The Assassin is a legend. The Assassin may be the name given to the one who strikes. But the orders come from the true enemy."

Again Seeker asked, "Who is this enemy?"

"I will show you."

Narrow Path then turned the covered lantern to the wall so that its light no longer fell on him, and he took Seeker's hands in his. Seeker understood that this was not a gesture of fellowship. The older man was passing on a part of himself through touch.

"Look up."

Seeker looked up.

"Memories of memories," said Narrow Path.

There above in the darkness a group of ghostly figures slowly appeared. There were seven of them, kneeling in a ring. Impossible to tell whether they were men or women, but from the stoop of their backs and the slowness of their movements, it was clear they were very old.

"This is not my memory. I share with you a memory of the Community."

"I see them."

"Now look more closely."

Seeker tried to make out the figures in the darkness, but they were insubstantial as smoke. Then, as he stared, they gained definition, and he saw that there were other indistinct figures forming a kneeling circle round them, resting their hands on the shoulders of the old people and bowing down their heads on their outstretched arms. Round this kneeling circle knelt a wider circle, their hands on the shoulders of those before them, their heads too resting on their arms; and yet more who knelt beyond; and so the ever-widening circles, linked by touch, disappeared into the shadows.

Seeker stared at the faces of those in the outer circles and saw that they were not old like the seven at the center. They were gaunt and pale, with unblinking eyes and white bloodless lips.

His gaze travelled back through the rings to the seven old people kneeling at the center. As he reached them it seemed to him that they turned their faces towards him and studied him with their ancient indifferent eyes.

"Who are they?" he asked.

"They call themselves savanters. The lords of wisdom."

"And who are those gathered round them?"

"The ones who give them life. The savanters are old—too old to live—and yet they live."

"And do they still live today?"

"Still today. Each life is sustained by many other lives. It's a kind of immortality."

"And they are our enemy?"

"They have sworn to destroy us."

He passed one hand through the air and the ghostly images faded away.

"Can they do that?"

"They are old, but they use the strength of others. They can turn armies against us. We have great powers, but our powers have limits."

"But I," said Seeker slowly, "am different."

"Yes."

"Am I stronger than them?"

"That is what you will find out."

"But I'm to be cleansed." The folly of this decision at such a time of danger bewildered him. "Why? Why doesn't the Community use my powers to protect the Nom?"

"Maybe there are those who don't want to protect the Nom."

"What! In the Community?"

"There's a traitor in the Nom. I've suspected it for some time. I believe this traitor, following the orders of the savanters, has caused the Community to make the wrong decision."

"Even the Elder!"

"The savanters have great power."

Seeker looked at the burning eyes of his informant and felt how intensely Narrow Path was willing him to believe in his words. For this very reason, he felt sudden doubt. Why should Narrow Path alone see how his powers must be used?

"You're thinking," said Narrow Path, "that I might be the traitor."

"How can I be sure of anything?"

"If I'm the traitor, if I'm lying to you, if the Elder and the Community are right and wise—then tomorrow you will be cleansed. The door you now see opening before you will be slammed shut."

No! cried Seeker in his heart. My whole life, my struggle to be accepted as a Noble Warrior, my training and my power, it must all be for a purpose. The voices that have spoken to me, the words of the Elder, my own deepest instincts—all tell me I have a task to do that's not yet done. I can't let the door close on my life.

Surely you know that where your way lies, the door is always open.

Narrow Path was watching and waiting.

"Where is this enemy?" said Seeker.

A glint of triumph flashed in Narrow Path's sharp eyes.

"You believe me."

"I believe there's more I must do."

"You must leave tonight, while the Community sleeps. You must travel fast. There are armies on the march. We have very little time. As to where you're to go—you've heard of the great forest called the Glimmen?"

Seeker nodded.

"Follow the high road through the Glimmen. Where the trees end you'll see a band of mist lying low over the ground. They call it the land cloud. Go into the cloud."

"I'll find them there?"

"Find them. And kill them. Don't hesitate. Kill them all."

"And if I fail?"

Narrow Path shrugged. "The day of the Noble Warriors will be over."

He took up his lantern.

"Wait for two hours at least. I'll leave this door unlocked. As for the other gates, each one has a gatekeeper. Your will is stronger than the will of a gatekeeper."

He turned to go.

"Wait," said Seeker.

Narrow Path stopped, his eyes cast down.

"Who else has the key to this door?"

"No one else," said Narrow Path.

"So the Community will know it's you who sets me free."

"They will know."

"And what will become of you?"

Narrow Path looked up then, and on his gaunt face there appeared a wry smile.

"Each of us serves in our own way," he said. "I give what I have to give."

With that he left, and the cell was plunged once more into darkness.

Morning Star lay on her hard bed, unable to sleep. In her mind, over and over again, she saw the Wildman dive. In her mind, she called out to him, "Don't go! Wait for me!" as she had wanted to do at the time. But she had not dared to speak. She saw that long lean body flashing down into the mist, so pure and beautiful, so alive. How could he be dead? Though her reason told her no man could survive such a fall, her heart cried out that he was still living. And she—was she living? This no longer felt like life. Shut off from the one source of comfort, the Loving Mother in the Garden, driven away by her own terrors, her own worthlessness, what was left to her in the Nom? Even Seeker, dear good Seeker, had been taken away for some unknown purpose.

I must go, too.

Not in search of some new goal, but to escape the burden of failure that weighed her down here on Anacrea.

I'm like my mother after all, she thought. I don't deserve to be a Noble Warrior. I live too close to the edge of madness.

Better to leave and go back to the mainland and build a new life for herself. And if the Wildman were still alive—

She left her bed and felt in the darkness for the little bundle of lamb's wool her father had given her when she left home. She had no other possession in the world. Even her clothes belonged to the Nom.

Moving with soft steps, she left the room and padded down the passage to the open air of the courtyard. On the far side was the door that led out to the Nom square. The door was locked. A gatekeeper dozed beside it.

For the first time, it struck Morning Star that she could not leave the Nom even if she wanted to. The Community would have to authorize her departure. And for that, she would have to be cleansed.

Her courage left her. Despairing, she sat down on the ground and put her head in her hands and wished she was home again with her father and mother and the dogs, gentle Amik and eager Lamb. She wished she was on the hillside with the flock. She wished she was little again.

Seeker waited until silence filled the great castle-monastery. Then he felt his way in the darkness to the unlocked door and followed the rock passage to the flight of steps. At the top of the steps was a door that was also unlocked, no doubt left that way by Narrow Path. Beyond the door, he found himself at last in the cold night air. It was a moonless night, but after the dark of the underground room, his eyes found light enough to know that he was in the lesser courtyard of the Community quarters. Facing him was the washhouse where they planned to cleanse him in the morning.

He crossed the raked pebbles, treading lightly, and passed down the Chapter Passage to the novitiate. The iron-barred gate in the stone arch ahead was closed. Beside it dozed a sleepy meek.

Seeker touched the meek on the arm to wake him.

"Open the gate," he whispered.

The meek blinked and stared at him.

"I've no orders to open the gate in the night," he said.

"Look at me."

The meek stared at Seeker. His blinking slowed and stopped.

"Yes, I do have orders," he said. "Somehow I had forgotten them."

He unlocked the gate and Seeker passed through into the novitiate. Moving rapidly, he made his way into the cloistered courtyard, heading for the exit door. There, curled up by the wall, was Morning Star.

"Star!" he whispered. "What are you doing?"

She looked up, and the unhappiness in her face shocked him.

"Where are you going?" she said.

"Away. I can't explain."

"The door's locked."

"The door will be opened for me."