And All Between (19 page)

“What is it, Tral?” the chief Councilor asked. “Why have you intruded on our conference?”

“I have been sent as a messenger—from those who await you in the great cavern—in the assembly hall.”

“Who is it that awaits us there?” Kir Oblan asked.

“The people. The people of Erda. They have gathered in the great cavern to take part in the Council concerning—” The young man paused and glanced nervously around the chamber, and his eyes, falling on Neric and Genaa, became fixed and rigid, and for some seconds he said nothing at all. At last, swallowing with obvious difficulty he went on “—concerning the captured Ol-zhaan,” he whispered huskily.

S
OON AFTER THE MESSENGER
burst into the conference chamber, Neric and Genaa, stripped of their camouflage of lapan fur, were led out onto the platform in the great assembly cavern, before an immense gathering of Erdlings. There was, Kir Oblan had said, no longer any choice.

“But how did they learn of our presence in Erda?” Neric asked when the messenger had finished speaking. “Who betrayed us?”

“I don’t know that it was a matter of betrayal,” Kir Oblan said. “But there were many who knew—all those in Rad’s crew—and secrets fare badly in Erda. Could it be, Rad, that your people are responsible?”

The foreman shrugged. “It is quite possible,” he said. “I told them not to speak of it, but the temptation would have been very great. I am sure they meant no harm. Without doubt someone told a few, pledging them to silence, and each of those told a few others, and on and on— You know how such things happen, Councilor.”

“What will happen now?” Genaa asked.

“You will have to go before the people and tell them your story as you have told us,” Kir Oblan said. “Then, if it is the will of the people, you will be free to go.”

“But you said it would take a long time,” Neric said.

Kir Oblan sighed. “True,” he said. “I did. And I’m afraid that it will. It may take a very long time, indeed. But I’m afraid that there is no other choice.”

And so the two Ol-zhaan were led forth, accompanied by Hiro D’anhk, and when the people of Erda saw them and their gleaming robes, a strange sound rose from the huge crowd—a low ominous moan that seemed to come from one enormous throat.

Striding forward, Kir Oblan began to speak, but he had gotten no further than, “People of Erda,” when a noisy commotion broke out far back in the cavern as a group of Erdlings rose and began to make their way to the platform. They were led by a short man with earth-hued skin, who pushed his way roughly through the crowd, brandishing a pointed length of metal over his head and shouting, “Death to the Ol-zhaan! Death to the enemy of Erda.”

“Go back, Befal,” Kir Oblan shouted. “Go back and await your turn to address the Council.”

But Axon Befal and the mob of Nekom continued to press forward until they were within a few feet of the platform edge. But at that moment another voice was heard clearly over the noise of the crowd.

“Stay where you are, Axon Befal,” the voice said and the leader of the Nekom looked up into the face of the Verban, Hiro D’anhk.

The tall Verban had advanced suddenly to stand beside Kir Oblan at the edge of the platform, and there was that in his voice that caused a sudden hush to fall over the great cavern. Even Befal, himself, seemed to be momentarily struck dumb. The last faint echoes of turmoil whispered away into silence as all eyes turned to the vivid face of the exiled Kindar.

“People of Erda,” Hiro D’anhk’s crisp Kindar voice rang out. “Have you come here to listen to the Nekom’s old and deadly dream, or would you hear a dream of hope? Hope for the people of Erda as well as for those who dwell in Green-sky. If you would choose hope you must listen—to me and to these young Ol-zhaan. You must hear that there are some among the Ol-zhaan who are convinced that the people of Erda must be set free.”

A gasp of wonder and disbelief spread through the cavern, and as Hiro D’anhk waited for it to fade, Axon Befal suddenly recovered his voice. “Who are you, Verban, homeless one, to give advice to the people of Erda?” he shouted.

“And who are the Nekom to speak for all the people of Erda?” Hiro D’anhk’s voice rang out into a shocked silence. “Why should the life-loving people of Erda allow themselves to be led by the few among them who have devoted themselves to death and vengeance. Why should those few be heard above all others only because they shout more loudly than those who speak with Love and wisdom?”

A murmur spread through the cavern, and when Axon Befal vaulted onto the platform a moment later and began to shout, the murmur grew into a roar.

“Be silent, Befal! Wait your turn to speak. Let the Ol-zhaan be heard,” the Erdlings shouted, and continued to shout until the leader of the Nekom had relinquished his place on the platform and returned to the cavern floor.

As Kir Oblan had warned, it was not to be done quickly. There was, first of all, the story to be told again—in great detail. Speaking in turns, Neric and Genaa, and Hiro as well, told the Erdlings of the Geets-kel and their secrets, and of the rebel Ol-zhaan. They spoke of the need for Hiro D’anhk to return to Orbora to bear witness to the true nature of those who were called the Pash-shan. They spoke of the dangers, and of the need for haste. And they spoke long and carefully of the danger to both Kindar and Erdling, if the Erdlings were too quickly released into Green-sky, before the Kindar were prepared for their coming.

Several times during the telling of the story, the leader of the Nekom made new attempts to gain the attention of the audience, but each time he was shouted into silence. At last he changed his tactics and, with his followers imitating him, he began to shout meaningless noises, intent only in drowning out the voices of the speakers. For a few minutes this new tactic seemed to be successful—if the Nekom were not allowed to speak, no one else would be. But then the crowd around the clump of Nekom began to surge forward, working their way in among the followers of Befal and opening the way for other infiltrators who came after them. And when the shouters found themselves surrounded, not by fellow Nekom, but by others, who stared at them silently, the shouts dwindled into stillness.

But when the Ol-zhaan had finished speaking and their story had been told it was, by Erdling custom, the time to admit speakers from the audience; and many came forward to take their turn on the platform. Some wished to state their conviction that the two young Ol-zhaan spoke sincerely and from the truth at least as they knew it. A few even claimed to have pensed it, but there were many who had doubts and questions.

Among those who came forward was, of course, Axon Befal, and for his allotted time he was listened to by most of the huge gathering with interest but little enthusiasm. But when he had used up his time in confused demands for immediate release for all Erdlings and immediate execution of the two captive Ol-zhaan, he was once more shouted into silence.

The fierce ravings of Befal were soon followed by the calm but quavering voice of the old man, Vatar, the leader of the mystical society of Gystig. Stretching out his arms, the old man spoke to his fellow Erdlings of faith and humility and implored them not to put their hopes in the strangers who came offering a spurious freedom of the body.

When, at long last, no other came forward to claim their right to speak, Kir Oblan returned once more to the front of the platform.

“Having heard the suggestions of the people,” he said, “we of the Council have a suggestion to offer for your approval. Although we see the wisdom in waiting until the Kindar have been prepared for our coming, and therefore in not insisting on the immediate destruction of the Root, we also understand the reasoning of those who are reluctant to allow these Ol-zhaan to depart with no assurance that they will remember their promises to the people of Erda. We therefore suggest that the two Ol-zhaan be allowed to depart with the Verban, Hiro D’anhk, but that they be required to take with them two or three Erdling representatives. Thus we can be more certain that our story will be well told and our cause well defended.”

There was a murmur of approval as, all over the cavern, the Erdlings gestured their support of the Council’s decision; and Kir Oblan turned to Neric and Genaa for their response.

“We have no objection,” Genaa said. “Except that whomever is chosen must be willing to share the risks of our mission. We do not know what our fate will be if we fail and the Geets-kel triumph. In the past, those whom the Geets-kel saw as threats to their power were imprisoned below the Root, and we do not know what else they might do—to what lengths they might go. So those who go with us must know that they go into danger.”

Then, while Kir Oblan again addressed the assembly concerning the choosing of representatives, Neric and Genaa were taken back to the small conference room. There, at the insistence of Hiro D’anhk, they were supplied with nids of lapan fur.

“You must rest,” Hiro said. “If only for an hour. It will not help your cause if you collapse from exhaustion in the tunnels. It will take a little time for the Council to choose the representatives and to collect the food and lanterns for our journey. Meanwhile, you must sleep.”

Some time later Neric and Genaa were awakened from the deep sleep of complete exhaustion to find themselves surrounded by many people. There were the Councilors and Hiro, the foreman, Rad Arba, and two strangers, a man and a woman—the newly chosen Erdling ambassadors to Green-sky. There was much haste and confusion. Introductions were made, good-bys were said, and the journey begun, before the two Ol-zhaan had fully recovered from the effects of their deep slumber.

Walking swiftly, they had passed through several small chambers and dimly lit tunnels before Neric realized that they were being led by half a dozen Erdlings, wearing bronze insignia on their chests.

“Who are they? Why are they with us?” he asked Hiro D’anhk.

“They are wardens,” Hiro said. “They will escort us as far as the cavern of three lakes, and then remain there when we have gone on to see that we are not followed. The Councilors felt it was necessary.”

“It is necessary. We are certain to be followed by many, out of curiosity, if not for more sinister reasons.” It was one of the Erdling representatives who spoke—the man—tall for an Erdling with deep-set, darkly shadowed eyes.

Neric turned to the speaker. “You are, then, one of those chosen to accompany us to Green-sky?” Neric asked. “I am sorry, but I was only half-awake when you were named to me. Your name is—?”

“I am Herd Eld,” the man said. “The father of the child, Teera. And this,” he indicated the woman who walked beside him, “is her mother, my bond-partner, Kanna.”

“Teera’s parents,” Neric gasped. “Genaa, did you know this?”

Genaa, who was walking just ahead, turned back. “Yes,” she said. “I guessed it when I heard their names. But I thought it wise to say nothing before the Councilors, since we had not spoken to them of Teera earlier.” And then, speaking to Herd and Kanna she said, “We had agreed not to mention Teera to the Councilors since her presence in Green-sky has little bearing on our mission and would only have caused further lengthy discussions.”

Herd nodded. “The hunter, Tocar, who brought us word that Teera was alive and in Green-sky, warned us to say nothing of what we had learned. And the Councilors chose us from among the volunteers for other reasons—perhaps because we had few to grieve for us if we did not return. But you were wise to keep silent. If they had learned that Teera was in Green-sky, there would have had to be endless explanations. And it is quite possible that the Councilors would have decided that ambassadors with less complicated motives would have served better.”

“Have you seen Teera recently?” Kanna asked. “Is she well?”

“She was very well when we last saw her,” Genaa said. “That was on the day that Tocar was sent to you with news of her.”

At that moment the Erdling escorts came to a stop before a heavy door, and one of their number turned to speak.

“Beyond this point,” he said, “we must go by way of the public areas. They will be crowded. No doubt many who would ordinarily be in their own clancaverns for the evening food-taking at this hour will be waiting in the public passageways, hoping for a glimpse of the Ol-zhaan. Most will be only curious, but as you witnessed in the great cavern, there are some among us whose minds have been poisoned by hatred. The Councilors felt that there might be danger. Therefore we will walk swiftly, surrounding the two Ol-zhaan so that they may not be closely approached by anyone from the crowd. When we reach the rails, a car will be waiting for us.”

The double doors swung open into a huge shop cavern. Here and there in front of the various stalls were groups of Erdlings engaged in animated conversation. But they fell instantly silent as they became aware of the Ol-zhaan. From all sides they pressed forward, surrounding the small caravan. Falling back before the waving arms of the wardens, they immediately closed in behind and followed. As the procession passed through tunnels and caverns, their numbers grew until it seemed to Neric, glancing back, that a dark, moving forest of humanity stretched behind them. A forest that moved forward so relentlessly that it seemed it might, overtaking its quarry, sweep over it, trampling it into the dusty earth.

The caravan had formed itself into a tight pattern. First Rad Arba, then two of the Erdling escorts and Hiro D’anhk, then Neric and Genaa flanked on each side by Kanna and Herd Eld, and then the remaining escorts. And behind them, pressing closer and closer, a thousand Erdlings straining to draw near enough to see the Ol-zhaan—or, perhaps, to do more.

In the narrowest tunnels, Erdlings meeting the caravan were forced to step back to the walls to let it pass. However, because of the narrow space, they remained almost within arm’s reach of the Ol-zhaan. Down these corridors, closely lined with faces, alight with avid interest, Neric and Genaa walked in fear, remembering the burning eyes and brandished weapons of the Nekom.

Too frightened and agitated to focus his Spirit-force, Neric was unable, even in the close-packed tunnels, to pense more than an ill-defined excited and fearful interest from the Erdlings that pressed in around him. But once or twice he was startled by a fleeting impression of something else, something harsh and bitter, and as shocking as sudden pain.