Flinx turned sharply on her. “Too much. There was a time, when I was very young, when I thought that was all that I wanted. Then all I wanted was to find out the truth about my parents. I still want that, and even though an unwelcome set of circumstances has been forced on me I still want to do what’s right and help others in numbers you can’t imagine, in ways you can’t envision. But I don’t do any of it for wealth.”
“Perhaps,” she replied sagely, “wealth means nothing to you because you already have enough of it.”
“No, that’s not...” He hesitated. From a physical standpoint, did he not have everything he wanted? Food, shelter, a surprisingly large line of credit, even a space-going ship of his own? Who was he to criticize if some Class IVb native saw an opportunity to make a little money and was smart enough to take advantage of it?
It struck him suddenly that he had been morally outmaneuvered by a being with more limbs than knowledge.
“I don’t think it’s right,” he snapped, “and I don’t like it. Just as I don’t like where this seems to be leading. I thought I could help some nativ—some of your fellow Dwarra—and that would be all. Clean, simple, and helpful. Now I find out that some of them are fighting among themselves just to get to your homestead, and to gain access to me.” His expression shifted from one of determination and mild anger to that of genuine uncertainty. “And by the way—what’s this I’m starting to hear about a ‘Cult of the Hallowed Visitant Flinx’?”
Ebbanai exchanged a knowing glance with his mate. “Ah, religion,” the net-caster murmured. “Every aspect of Dwarran society has its favorite deity or gods. As a net-caster, I make frequent obeisance to Vadakaa, lord of the seas and all that dwell beneath the waves. A farmer would pray for good rains to Seletarii, god of weather. A forest harvester, perhaps to Lentrikee. I do not believe in either of the latter two, of course. My interest is only in Vadakaa, whose intercession I seek to help me in my work.” Perfectly round eyes that were not so innocent met those of the alien. “Those who seek salvation from their pain and sickness, from their ills and injuries, entreat Terebb or Nacickk or Rakshinn. It is not unusual, or unprecedented, for people to change their allegiance to still another divinity, especially if they believe it will do more for them than its predecessor.”
His host was not trying to hide anything, Flinx sensed. Ebbanai was only telling the truth.
“But I’m no deity. I’m only another individual, like you, or Storra, or anyone who comes this way.”
Ebbanai gestured understanding. “We know that.” Observing that her mate was handling the situation unusually well, Storra kept silent. “So do most of those eights and eights who keep coming, who are even now camped patiently and hopefully on our land. But others do not. Or deep down they know the truth, but want to believe otherwise. It makes them feel better to think that they are seeking help from a god. Isn’t that what religion is for? To comfort the insecure?” He straightened a little more. “I know that when I am out alone in the shallows, casting my net in the dark of night while hoping for calm weather and a good catch, I frequently pray to Vadakaa for aid. I do this even though I have never seen him, or a recognizable manifestation of him.” He nodded in the alien’s direction.
“To many Dwarra you, Flinx, have become far more real than these traditional, far more mysterious and unapproachable gods.”
“There is no harm in it.” Storra finally spoke up. “What does it matter what those who come seeking help think of you, so long as you help them? Isn’t that what’s important? Your help, and what results from it?”
“I don’t know.” For simple country folk, his hosts were proving surprisingly adept at argument. Or maybe, he thought, they just did not want to let go of a good thing. It did not take him long to come to a conclusion. One he probably ought to have implemented some time ago. And would have, he told himself, if his innate compassion for the needy had not kept him from putting it off.
“I’m leaving,” he told them abruptly.
His hosts were clearly agitated. While he could perceive their distress, his Talent was not precise enough to let him identify the reasons behind it. It might be the money, or they might genuinely be sorry to see him go. Or it could be a combination of those factors, he told himself, or something else entirely of which he was serenely unaware. It didn’t matter. He’d become so involved in helping the genuinely needy natives that he’d let slip the reason for stopping at this world in the first place. His motives for becoming so involved with the locals might be sincere, but it was becoming clear to him now that his rationale was slipshod.
Besides, the Teacher had informed him that the necessary repairs were almost completed. Even if he wanted to remain longer, to help more of the needy, it was time to go. Destiny had placed a greater claim on his time.
“But Flinx,” Storra protested, gesturing toward the front of the domed dwelling, “what about all the others? All those who have trekked here from towns and provinces distant and difficult to reach? Can you just walk away from them?”
“I have no choice,” he told her firmly. “While I might personally like to stay, I have important business elsewhere.” A cosmic wild-goose chase, he thought to himself. But one to which he was committed. “Others have placed prior demands on my—help. I have to go.”
Was their interest in him so great that they might try to restrain him? He doubted it. Of all the Dwarra he had met and dealt with, his hosts were more familiar with his capabilities than all the others combined. Besides, as he had just learned, they had apparently done very well out of hosting him. They should have nothing to complain about.
“Well then, if your mind is made up...,” Storra began. Before she could finish, Ebbanai trundled forward, extending all eight gripping flanges in addition to his Sensitives.
“We were proud to help you when you hurt your leg,” the Dwarra net-caster exclaimed, “and proud to have been able to help you help other less fortunate ones of our kind. We wish you well in your future journeying, and may your net always come back to you full.”
Following Ebbanai’s brave and honest declaration, the contrast in emotional reaction between male and female, Flinx noted silently, was almost comical. Neither wanted to see him go, but for an empath like himself who could read the emotions of others, there was no mistaking which of them was the more perturbed by his announcement.
“Close the grounds to new arrivals,” he told them both. “I’ll attend to those who are already here. But no more. No new cases, no more supplicants. Then I’ll be on my way.” Reaching up with one hand to absently stroke the back of Pip’s gleaming, triangular head, he smiled. “I’ve enjoyed my stay here, and I feel like I’ve done some good. Now it’s time I was on my way, if only to put a stop to this ridiculous ‘cult’ before it has a chance to grow and do real damage. If the Dwarra are going to venerate gods, it’s important that they stick to their own.”
With that, he turned and left the room, heading back to the part of the barn that had been modified to serve as his quarters. Only after she was sure he was gone did Storra turn to her mate.
“What did you have to go and wish him farewell for? Couldn’t you see that he still feels sorry for the sick who have come? With the right words and emotions, we might have been able to persuade him to stay longer among us.”
Ebbanai frequently deferred to his mate’s judgment, but not this time. “He is determined to go. Didn’t you hear? He has other commitments. Better he should leave with our blessings than with us clawing at his ankles, begging him to remain. At least this way, he will depart with good feelings on both sides. Maybe that will induce him to return someday.” Turning slightly, he reached toward her with his Sensitives. She remained where she was, but jerked hers back. “Or did you have thoughts of trying to hold him forcibly?” He felt compelled to ask the question even as he feared the possible answer.
“Thoughts, perhaps,” she admitted. “But they were never more than thoughts. Even if we could separate him from his
devices, we would still have to find a way to deal with that flying creature of his. And we don’t even know what it can do, except that Flinx said it was poisonous.” Her gaze, like her thoughts, shifted back in the direction of the departed alien. “Perhaps you are right, mate-mine. Let him go freely, in hopes that someday he may come back.”
Ebbanai gestured agreeably. “It is the best course to take. The only course to take, I think. I am glad you concur.”
But in his hearts, her mate knew that once Flinx was gone, it was most unlikely they would ever see the alien again. Unlike her, unlike the majority of his fellow Dwarra, the net-caster had spent too many long nights standing alone in the shallows of the sea, staring up at the stars. He had sometimes tried to count them, but there were too many for him.
Though probably not for someone like the Visitant Flinx, for whom they were the home he was now in a hurry to return to.
The priest Baugarikk was not pleased. In the Sanctuary in central Wullsakaa, he had squatted and brooded for some time now on what ought to be done. The possibilities were many, but whichever was chosen, it could only lead to one outcome.
Acolyte Kredlehken smoothed his swirling, heavily embroidered robes down over his legs. He had attended the High Priest for more than a year and thought he knew him well. But until now, he had never imagined the intensity with which the elder Dwarra could focus his mental energies. That the gods did not respond directly was unsurprising. As he had learned, they tended to make their needs known in ways that were as subtle and mysterious as their origin.
There was nothing subtle or mysterious about the High Priest’s meditations. They stemmed from, and related directly to, the arrival outside Metrel City of an alien being. Though it insisted it was not a god, but only another creature like the Dwarra themselves, more and more simple folk were coming to believe that the creature’s own denials were intended to dissuade them from worship, and to conceal its true nature. By Rakshinn, they would call it a god and honor it as such even as it denied such tribute!
The problem was that while they were doing so, they were paying less and less attention to Rakshinn himself and his Holy Eight. The result was that not only was proper veneration down at the Sanctuary, but so were collections. It was on this, and related matters, that the High Priest Baugarikk had been meditating for so many days.
His superior had been so quiet and introspective for so long that Kredlehken was nearly startled out of his ceremonial slippers when Baugarikk suddenly rose and turned on him.
“Acolyte!”
“Yes, Most Holy One. I am here.” Kredlehken spread both arms and all four forearms wide, inclining his Sensitives toward his superior in a gesture that was both respectful and reverent.
“I know what has to be done.” The High Priest’s eyes were not especially wide, but they were ablaze with assurance. “It was conveyed to me by the minions of Rakshinn himself!”
“Most Revered!” Kredlehken hissed softly. Who could doubt the holiness of the High Priest, who communicated directly with the gods? “What are we to do?”
Placing a pair of left flanges on the acolyte’s shoulder, Baugarikk turned the younger cleric and led him out of the sanctuary. Together, they mounted the steps that led from the subterranean meditation chamber back up into the somber but well-lit hallways of the main temple.
“This creature that has come among us is clearly an abomination. It turns the faithful from the path of righteousness and beguiles them with tricks and subterfuges. In order for all to be returned to the Right Path, the falsity of the being’s reality must be shown to them in a manner that none will be able to deny.”
Kredlehken was gesturing enthusiastically. “Of course, Holy One. And how is this to be done?”
“Rakshinn has told me. At hearts, it is really a simple matter. The people must be shown that the Visitant is not divine, but exactly what it claims to be: a mere mortal like themselves, meddling in and muddling the ways of the world. While it may have access to science more advanced than our own, it is not something to be worshipped. It must be restored to the ranks of the ordinary.”
“By what method is this to be achieved, Holy One?” the acolyte inquired earnestly.
“By the method most direct and incontrovertible. The Visitant must be killed. Only by its death will the people be convinced of its mortality, and that it is not, and never was, a thing to be worshipped—a thing that dared take them away from the Right Path of Rakshinn and the Holy Eight.”
Kredlehken halted beneath a famous mosaic of Toryyin, the Fifth of Eight, and swallowed hard. “Holy One, it is known that the Visitant possesses great powers of healing. It is also whispered that it has at its disposal the means to defend itself from any hostility that might be directed toward its person.”
Baugarikk gestured knowingly. “Of course such things will be whispered. And what is the source of these whisperings? Why, the Visitant itself! If it can convince everyone that it is untouchable, it need not trouble itself with the means to protect itself. It is an old and wise ploy; one apparently known to creatures other than ourselves.”
“The stratagem does not invalidate the original claim,” acolyte Kredlehken was compelled to point out.
“There is one way to find out.” Baugarikk was unrelenting. Once again, he placed a pair of flanges on the younger cleric’s shoulder. “The honor falls to you, Kredlehken, to ascertain the reality of this troublesome visitor. You will be provided with everything necessary to carry out your task. I have been in touch with those who honor and revere Rakshinn in Pakktrine Unified. They have agreed to provide us with whatever aid we may request. Subsequent to the successful completion of this action, I daresay you will find yourself swiftly promoted from the ranks of the acolytes to that of full priest, with all the responsibilities and honors that implies and entails.”
Though nervous, Kredlehken had never been one to shirk his sacred duty—which was just one reason why the High Priest had chosen him for the task. And if the zealous youth was to fail, well, other means could be tried, and what was the loss to the temple of one acolyte, more or less?
“Do not fear,” Baugarikk assured him. “Rakshinn will be with you, and the rest of the Eight, and all the resources that the temple can muster. You go forth only to dispatch a dishonest pretender, not a god. Its death will restore the full faith of the people, and return them to the temple that is their true spiritual home. I know you will not fail.”
“I will not,” Kredlehken exclaimed forcefully. “Rakshinn himself will guide my sword!”
The High Priest looked thoughtful. “Better to use barbolts. Mortal as it is, the truth of the creature’s physical abilities is no rumor. There is no need to engage it at close quarters. Like doctrine, extermination is better carried off when conducted from a distance.”
CHAPTER
11
Ebbanai wished Storra had come with him. Or better still, Flinx and his winged companion. The net-caster had been unable to sleep the previous night for contemplating what he was expected to do this morning. Only a little could go right, while a great many things could go wrong.
Without volunteering to join him, Storra had done her best to bolster his spirits. “You yourself are the one who kept saying this day was inevitable. Now that it’s here, you must have the strength to see it through.”
He gestured emphatically. “Why can’t you see it through with me? Why can’t Flinx?”
Soothing noises bubbled from her mouth. “You know very well why. Flinx must minister to the ills of the last group of supplicants, and one of us must be here to attend to him, and to our home.” She eyed him sternly. “You have been the one who has first dealt with the arrival of every group, Ebbanai. You are practiced at it, you are good at it.”
“I know, I know.” He locked Sensitives with her. As was often the case, her emotions reflected a familiar deep, underlying affection that belied her demanding words. “I will go and do it.” He turned for the doorway. “But if I have not returne
d by sunfall, you might come and have a look for what’s left of me.”
“Don’t be so negative,” she chided him. “A few words spoken, perhaps a few questions to be answered, and the thing will be done.” She let out a soft whistle of resignation. “All good things must come to an end, I suppose. But you are right, mate-mine. We have done well out of this.”
“Very much so.” I just hope I live to enjoy some of it, he thought to himself as he exited the house.
Maybe he was overreacting. If all went well, it would transpire as Storra had said: a few words, and done. But as he made his way up the slope and down the much-improved dirt path that led toward the main road, his apprehension grew rather than diminished.
The yard was largely empty now. All that remained were the temporary quarters of the final group of supplicants. Flinx would be done with the last of them by tomorrow. Ebbanai found that he would be sorry to see the alien go, and not just because it would mean an end to the highly profitable enterprise he and Storra had put together based on his presence. The strange but benevolent creature had been a part of their lives for a number of eight-days now, and aside from the fortune he had brought their way, the net-caster had grown used to his company. He had learned much from their visitor, knowledge that was unknown to the most venerable scholars. Quite a step up for a simple net-caster.
He glanced skyward. Beyond lay thousands of stars and, if the visitor was to be believed, dozens of races whose achievements and intelligence frequently exceeded those of the Dwarra. Flinx had described many of the wonderful places he had been. But for all his wisdom, and all his travels, Ebbanai did not envy him.
No matter how hard the Visitant tried to project otherwise, Ebbanai could not escape the feeling that his estimable and friendly guest was not happy.
His thoughts and his leather-shod foot-flanges had carried him close to the tollgate that barred the entrance to the homestead. It was a barrier in import only. Anyone who wished to could simply go around it. No one did, because it was widely known that without permission from the landowners, from Storra and himself, they would never get to see the Visitant. What would happen now, when he delivered his announcement?