Miriander had charge of Seeker.
"Come now," she said.
Instead, Seeker went to Morning Star, who was kneeling on the stone floor of the yard with her face in her hands. He knelt with her and put his arms round her, and she began to sob.
"He's gone," she said. And then, in time with her sobs, as if she was trying to cry him out of her, she said again and again, "Gone. Gone. Gone."
Seeker felt her shudder in his arms, and he looked up to his waiting teacher.
"Give me a little time with her."
Miriander nodded.
He drew Morning Star gently to her feet, thinking he knew a way to bring her comfort.
"We could have stopped him," she said. "We were his friends."
"No," he said. "We can't live his life for him."
Now that she had begun to talk, the words came tumbling out of her, and Seeker let her talk, hoping it would ease her pain.
"He was so unhappy and I did nothing. What could I do? He told me he felt crushed and trapped and tied. Why did he feel that? He wanted peace. He wanted it so much. And now he'll never find it."
Seeker led her down the passage that opened into the Shadow Court, his arm round her the whole way.
"Don't tell me he's gone," she said, holding tight to his hand. "Tell me he'll come back one day, the way he used to be, laughing and golden and beautiful. He didn't have to dive. Don't let him dive. It's too high, and there are rocks beneath the waves. And even if he dives..."
They were in the deep gloom of the Shadow Court.
She stopped and pulled Seeker round so that she could see his face.
"Even if he dives," she said, her eyes burning, "it doesn't mean the sun will rise again. Will you tell him that? Tell him the sun won't rise. If he dives, the dawn will never come. Tell him. Please tell him."
He put both arms round her now and held her close, to soothe her bewildered spirit.
"I'll tell him."
"But he's gone. How could I forget? It's too late."
She wept in his arms.
"Come," said Seeker. "Let's lay our grief before the Loving Mother and ask for comfort."
She went with him through the speckled light of the Night Court, not noticing her surroundings.
"Don't tell him I love him," she said. "He doesn't want me to love him, so I'll not love him. Tell him so, and maybe he'll come back. Tell him I love him so much I'll not love him."
"I'll tell him," said Seeker sadly.
They entered the cool white space of the Cloister Court. Ahead glinted the silver screen that bounded the Garden. The closer they came to the Garden, the tighter Morning Star gripped Seeker's arm.
"No," she said. "No nearer. I'll be punished."
"Punished? For what?"
"For the madness in me."
"There's no madness in you," he said. "Only sadness. Let the Loving Mother comfort you."
But she would go no farther. She shook with fear.
"The colors," she said. "Don't let me dive into the colors. If I dive, I'll drown."
He held her tight, pressing her head to his chest so that her eyes would close.
"No dive," he murmured to her. "No dive. No colors. Only me, holding you tight."
As he held her, he felt an ache in his heart. But this was no time to be thinking of himself.
"The Wildman dived," she whispered. "Did I see him dive? I think I did. But you must tell me the truth."
"Yes," said Seeker. "He dived."
"And will the sun now rise again?"
"Yes. The sun will rise again."
"Will you tell him I'm stronger now? Tell him I'll not love him any more."
"I'll tell him."
"We can be friends again, the way we used to be. You and me and the Wildman. We were good friends, weren't we?"
"Good friends."
Then she was silent. Her breathing grew even against his chest. He stroked some stray hair back from her flushed cheek. He heard a soft sound behind him, and there was Miriander, waiting for him.
"We have to go back now," he said.
Morning Star walked back with him, and with every step she took she became calmer and her mind became clearer.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I've been confused."
"It's the shock," said Seeker. "We're all shocked."
"I don't know what I've been saying. Forget it all. It's all nonsense."
"I'll take you back to your room. Let you rest."
They returned to the novitiate. At the entrance to the long passage where the novices had their cells, he came to a stop.
"I'm all right now," she said. "Thank you."
She held out one hand. Absurdly, after he had held her close to him and stroked the tears from her cheeks and felt her cling to him so tight, he now shook her hand.
"You'll always be my friend, won't you?" she said.
"Always."
Miriander led Seeker down a flight of steps into a lower level of the Nom, which he had not known existed. The passages and rooms through which they passed had been cut out of the rock itself and were windowless, dimly lit by small lamps placed on the floor.
After a while he could see bright light ahead. A shaft had been cut through the rock to the open air, and down this shaft streamed the cold clear daylight, so much more powerful, even on a cloudy winter's day, than the little amber glow of the lamps.
In this last room, in the pool of daylight, sat the Elder, in his wheelchair. His weak old eyes were on Seeker with the expression he had worn before, of an overwhelming sadness. He made a sign to Miriander. She bowed and left them.
"So you are the one," the Elder said. "As I have suspected since you first came to us."
He spoke with difficulty. He had grown much weaker since Seeker had last been alone with him. Seeker waited, feeling the beating of his own heart, for the soft creaky voice to begin again. Now at last he would be told the meaning of the changes that were taking possession of him.
"Your coming, at this time, warns us that we are in great danger. This has been long expected."
The Elder fell silent, exhausted.
"If I have more power than others, Elder, it's at the service of the Nom. Only tell me what I'm to do."
"More power, yes." The Elder sighed. "Our strength is as the strength of a wounded warrior, and victory makes us weak. You remember?"
"Yes, Elder."
"But not for you."
Seeker bowed his head in acknowledgment and in obedience. If extra powers had been given him, it was the will of the All and Only. He waited to be told what to do.
"What was it the voice said to you, Seeker, all those months ago?"
Seeker spoke the well-remembered words.
"'Surely you know that it's you who will save me.'"
"So, so," murmured the Elder. "You can save, or you can destroy."
"Why would I want to destroy, Elder?"
"Power is a terrible thing, my boy."
Then he crinkled his worn face into a small smile.
"But you're a boy no longer."
"I haven't asked for this, Elder. None of this is my doing."
"Do you fear the power?"
"Yes, Elder."
"Good. That's good." He thought for a while. "You know you can be released."
Seeker knew of only one way: he could be cleansed. That would drain him of his power, but also of his past and everything that made him who he was. He would be returned to early childhood.
"There are those in the Community," said the Elder, "who say that it should be done. They say it is our duty not to loose such unlimited power into the world."
"And what do you say, Elder?"
The Elder gave another long sigh.
"I don't know, boy. My mind is not as clear as it was."
He held out one hand before him.
"See. My hand trembles. I can no longer stop it."
Seeker took the trembling hand and drew it to his lips and kissed it. The trembling ceased.
> The old man saw this and tears came to his eyes. He bowed his head to Seeker.
"Thank you."
He raised one hand, and out of the shadows stepped his attendant meek. This came as a shock to Seeker. He had thought they were alone.
"Now I will go back to the meeting," said the Elder. "We meet to decide what is to be done with you. You will wait here."
"Yes, Elder."
The meek then wheeled him out of the room. Somewhere in the darkness of the passage Seeker heard a door close and a key turn in a lock. It seemed he was a prisoner.
He went to the shaft of daylight and looked up into the white sky above. The shaft was no more than twelve inches wide at its widest. On either side, the walls were solid rock. He explored the passage and found the door and felt it. It was heavy, but he knew his own strength now and reckoned he could break it down if he chose. But this imprisonment was the will of the Community. So he returned to the light and sat himself down on the floor and waited.
He recalled the tears in the Elder's eyes, and there came back into his mind the words the Elder had spoken to him long ago.
"We weep for pity of those we must hurt, and our hearts break for those we love."
8. Learning to Ride
THE IMMENSE ARMY OF AMROTH JAHAN MOVED SLOWLY across the fertile plains of the Great Basin, devouring all the winter-stored grain and slaughtering all the cattle as they went. Word of the Orlans' ruthlessness went before them, and they met no resistance. The people of the regions through which they passed gathered in silent clusters to watch them go by, and stared in awe at the warriors' elegant Caspians. They were the first horses ever seen in these parts.
Echo Kittle, carried along as part of the Great Jahan's entourage, had still not mounted the horse that had been given her to ride. Each day she asked the Jahan if she was ready, and each day he shook his head and said, "Not yet."
It must be soon now. The more time she spent by Kell's side, the better he seemed to understand her. Often she would look round and see him gazing at her, his wide-spaced eyes thoughtful and steady, and she would say, "What, Kell? What is it?" Then he would toss his beautiful head and come to her and stand close, and she would feel he wanted her to know he would look after her.
To add to the hardship of her life on the road, the Jahan's sons had become bolder in her presence and were turning into a constant irritant. Everywhere she went, there was Sasha moodily brushing his fingers through his long bushy hair, which he believed to be his most attractive feature; or Alva, as often as not stripped to the waist, showing off his well-muscled torso; or Sabin, who never spoke, but who watched her like a hungry puppy.
Small gifts began to appear in her tent: a plate of honey cakes, a beaded bracelet. There was never a written note to say who they came from, so Echo didn't know who to thank. This suited her well enough, as she didn't feel at all grateful. She felt harassed. She put the gifts outside her tent, where the Jahan saw them.
"What's this?" he said.
"They're not mine," she replied. "Someone left them in my tent by mistake."
"These are love gifts."
"Then why are there no messages?"
"Messages?"
"To say who they're from."
The Jahan laughed.
"My sons can't write. These are gifts from them, to win your favor."
"Then please tell them not to waste their time."
"I will not tell them so. At my command, they are competing for you. The winner will receive you as his bride at a celebration in the city of Radiance. Do you know the city of Radiance?"
"I've never been there," said Echo.
"I'm told it's very rich and very beautiful. It will please me to have the king of Radiance offer his homage. Afterwards, at the victory feast, you will be married."
"Am I to be given away as a prize?"
"You will give yourself away. To the one you favor."
"I don't favor any of them. They're all as dull and ugly as each other."
The Jahan sighed at this.
"I don't deny it. I'm hoping that the competition for your favor will bring out qualities that have not yet been revealed."
"I won't do it," said Echo. "You can't make me."
"Of course I can make you. You will do what is necessary to please me. What displeases me, I crush beneath my feet."
After this the love gifts ceased. In their place came words. Echo found this even more aggravating.
"Your eyes are like ripe plums," said Alva Jahan to her one morning. He spoke without preliminaries, coming up behind her as she was stroking Kell. She made no reply. After a few moments, he wandered away.
Sasha Jahan was more persistent.
"Your mouth is soft as a foal's," he told her, "sucking the udder of love."
Echo pretended she hadn't heard him. He went on.
"My beloved's head is a cake. Her skin is pale as marzipan."
This was too much. She rounded on him.
"Where do you get this nonsense?"
"From the matchmaker," he said, blinking a little.
"Then you need a better matchmaker."
"It's true," said Sasha gloomily. "All the best matchmakers are women. But we're on campaign, and we have only men."
Later that day Echo heard scuffles and cries, and came out of her tent to find a man bent over a barrel, being whipped. He was one of the camp cooks.
"What's he done?" she asked, flinching at his piteous cries.
"Been making out he's a matchmaker," came the reply. "He should stick to making pies."
That evening Echo sought out the cook. He was lying on a cot with a cold mud poultice on his raw back.
"I'm sorry you were whipped," she said. "It wasn't your fault."
"My love words failed," said the cook sadly. "I don't know what went wrong. They've always worked well before."
"They came out a little suddenly," said Echo.
"Ah, well. There you are. They do need leading up to. You do have to prepare the ground."
"Yes, I expect that would have made all the difference."
"Your buttocks," the cook recited tenderly to himself, "are the pillows of my dreams."
"They didn't use that one."
"I think that's my favorite."
"Tell me," said Echo. "These love words. Is your method to work through the parts of the body, and then find something to compare them with?"
"That's exactly what I do!" exclaimed the cook, very surprised. "But don't tell anyone. They might set up a rival business once they understand the method."
"I won't tell."
Echo would have laughed at the cook-matchmaker but for the whip wounds on his back. And as for herself, it was all very well to sneer at the Jahan's sons, but their father had let it be known throughout the camp that one of them was to have her for his wife. His immense pride would never allow her to refuse all of them for much longer.
The most persistent of her suitors was Alva, the Great Jahan's second son. The most athletic and warlike of the three, he announced one day that he would challenge all comers in the traditional Orlan mode of courtship: a contest of skill and strength called the jagga.
"I fight for you," he declared to Echo. "If I win, you must give me a kiss. That is our custom."
"It may be your custom," said Echo, "but it's not mine."
The great army had made camp at the end of the day. Word spread rapidly that Alva Jahan had called a jagga, and a number of young men lined up to try their skills. Echo had no notion what a jagga was, and at first was curious enough to linger and watch.
Mounted, naked to the waist, armed only with his whip, Alva faced his first opponent across a cleared space. He raised his whip in salute to Echo and then gave a great shout.
"Ya, jagga!"
He rode at his opponent, whip cracking, and the two tangled in a blur of combat. Both were agile and adept at evading the flying whips; and so they parted unharmed.
The Jahan himself came to watch, and he applauded
loudly.
"Ha, Alva! Bring him down, boy!"
Echo understood that the object of the sport was to unseat your opponent. As she watched she saw Alva's whip curl and catch and tug, but the other rider made his horse spin round on the spot, and so he escaped. This dexterity amazed Echo. At such times horse and rider seemed to fuse into a single being.
"Don't let him go, boy!" yelled the Jahan. "Follow! Follow!"
Alva was dominating the contest. There was little doubt of the outcome. Even now he was dancing round his opponent, taunting him, readying a winning strike. Then he would come prancing over to Echo, glowing with glory and sweat, and demand his winner's kiss.
Echo waited for his attack, when the attention of the onlookers was all on the combat, and she slipped away.
"Come, Kell," she whispered; and Kell picked his way with delicate hooves over the tussocky grass to her side.
But she had left it just a little too late. A shout went up from the spectators, and turning, she saw that Alva Jahan had just unseated his opponent.
"Sorry, Kell," she said. "No more time to get to know each other. I need you now."
She swung herself up onto the horse as she had seen the Orlans do, and lying low over his back, she wrapped her arms round his neck and gripped tight with her thighs. Kell set off at once at an easy canter across the camp. Echo was quite unable to look behind her, so she had no idea whether Alva had seen her go and was chasing after her.
Kell cantered faster and faster, past the last of the tents and into open farmland. Echo felt herself being thrown from side to side, but she clung on grimly for as long as she could. When her grip began to slacken out of sheer exhaustion, she decided to risk sitting upright. She rose up and at once felt herself tip to the left. She threw her weight to the right and fell off.
Kell came to a stop just ahead, then turned round to gaze at her with big reproachful eyes.
"What do you expect?" she said. "I've never done it before."
She climbed to her feet, and Kell trotted back to her side. She looked around. No sign of any pursuers.