Dragon's Egg (20 page)

“It is a fitting monument to the honor of Bright,” he said with obvious satisfaction.

“Yes,” Hungry-Swift said. “All of us who worked on it are extremely proud that we were allowed to contribute to such an impressive edifice. As you commanded, a dozen greats of cheela can fit between the outer walls. One of the astrologers calculated that the Holy Temple can hold a great of greats of greats of cheela within its walls.”

“May we bring down the Blessing of Bright upon them all,” said God’s-Chosen.

The two, together with their honor guard, approached the walls of the Temple. They passed between two of the circular mounds that represented two of the outer eyes of Bright, and moved between the narrowing walls that represented the eye-stubs, until they came to a break in the wall between the two eye-stubs that was one of the entrances to the inner portion of the Temple of Holies.

As they passed through the Temple orifice and entered the inner yard, God’s-Chosen knew that he had been right. This was the Word of Bright! Ahead he could see the Inner Eye mound, but all around him was a horizon of wall that blocked off the view of the city, leading the eyes naturally upward to look at Bright toward the south and the Eyes of Bright to the east.

As they entered the Temple, they could see a small crowd around the base of the Inner Eye mound.

“We have come just at the end of a worship service,” Hungry-Swift said. “Bright’s-First, the High Priest, is on the Inner Eye mound now. Let us go to meet him.”

They made their way to the rear of the crowd around the mound as the service ended. God’s-Chosen was then bewildered to see a line of cheela, each dragging a sled piled with food, slowly making its way up the mound. At the top, the supplicants left their sleds, where they were taken by apprentice astrologers, while the supplicant went up to the High Priest and slowly rotated around once, while the High Priest touched each eye, one after the other, murmuring as he did so.

“What is going on?” God’s-Chosen asked of one of the cheela slowly pulling his heavy burden up the slope of the mound.

“I am bringing my dozeth, and have come to get my blessing,” the cheela said.

The tread of God’s-Chosen rippled sharply on the crust, “What dozeth, and what blessing?”

The cheela’s eye-stubs wavered randomly in bewilderment, and Hungry-Swift’s voice broke in from the side.

“The High Priest has said that those who would divide up their harvest and kill into twelve parts, and give one-twelfth to the Keepers of the Temple, will receive a special blessing from Bright, given by the High Priest himself. He holds a worship service every turn, and these people come from all over Bright’s Empire to give their dozeth and receive Bright’s Blessing.”

God’s-Chosen was shocked. His tread exploded in a furious shout.

“No!” he shouted, and scurried up the mound as all eyes turned toward him. “The Blessing of Bright belongs to all, and is freely given. You cannot bribe Bright with gifts!” He moved across the top of the mound to where the apprentice astrologers were taking the sleds of food. With a strength borne of fury, he pushed a load of pods and meat off a sled down the slope. The pods rolled downward, gathering speed and disappearing, to reappear as they came to a stop against the shocked edges of the cheela at the bottom of the mound.

God’s-Chosen moved back to the center of the mound and repeated in his high-pitched voice, “I will bring you the Blessing of Bright. You do not have to give a dozeth to receive it, but only what you wish to give!”

God’s-Chosen turned his small pink eyes from the crowd, stared hard at the motionless High Priest, and said, “I do not want my people coerced into worshiping Bright. If the astrologers cannot live on free will offerings, let them work in the fields!”

A murmur of approval started in the crowd of supplicants, and then grew to a continuous cheer as the crowd began to realize who the pale figure was—and
what he had been saying. As the crowd started up the mound to gather around God’s-Chosen, the High Priest moved away down the other side, his apprentices abandoning the sleds and following after him.

Later in the astrologers’ compound, the High Priest was conferring with Bright’s-Second, the Chief Astrologer.

“He has no idea what he is doing,” Bright’s-First said.

“The people are behind him,” Bright’s-Second warned. “Not to mention the Leader of the Combined Clans and all of his underleaders.”

“But he does not understand the importance of our work,” the High Priest said. “You cannot have apprentice astrologers out tending crops in the fields like common laborers. They will never learn their numbers or how to cast horoscopes with the astrologer sticks.”

“You are right,” Bright’s-Second said. “He ought to be dealt with in some way. He is disrupting the important duties of the people that work in God’s service.”

“Unfortunately,” Bright’s-First said, “only Hungry-Swift, the Leader of the Combined Clans, has the authority to do anything about this rabble-rouser, and he is under his spell.”

The Chief Astrologer hesitated, then said, “His Blessing is a powerful one. You should have come with us when we went east to experience it.”

The High Priest answered with a sharp ripple, “I have no need of any blessing from the pale one.”

The turns passed; it was now less than half a great of turns until the Blessing would be on the Temple. As the time grew near, great crowds began to come into Bright’s Heaven, in order to be in the Temple at the time of the dedication. It seemed as if half of the Empire thronged into the city.

Finally, God’s-Chosen held a gathering outside the eastern orifice of the now completed Temple. As the Blessing of Bright came down upon them once again,
God’s-Chosen announced that the next Blessing would come upon the Temple, and that in preparation for that turn, the next half-dozen turns were to be Holy ones. All should stop their labor and prepare for the occasion by prayer. Then at the appointed time, all should be inside the Temple to receive the Blessing.

The science experiments console screen blinked.

Cesar looked up at the words at the top of the screen, and went on with his analysis of the IR scanner data.

Three turns before the dedication of the Holy Temple, God’s-Chosen knew there was a problem. He had seen the pulsating, multicolored beam go south. But then it had stopped. The time came near, and he looked in vain at the Inner Eye. He could see no beams—no light of any kind.

“Bright is testing my faith,” he said to himself. “For many greats of turns the people have had to accept my word that the Blessing of Bright was coming. Now I am as blind as they are. I must have faith.”

God’s-Chosen asked that the Temple be cleared, and when the crowds and astrologers were all outside the orifices, he went in alone and climbed up on the Inner Eye mound to pray.

God’s-Chosen looked out from the central mound across the empty inner court toward the outer walls in
the distance. There was no doubt in his mind. This was what Bright had wanted. He turned his eyes to the sky, and looking south toward Bright, began to pray.

“O Bright. Give me the faith that the others have, and if my belief falters, help me to overcome my weakness so that I may believe in you and your Blessing.”

God’s-Chosen slowly moved down the inner mound and went out the western orifice toward the astrologers’ compound. As he left, the troopers, who had been keeping the people out, finally let the crowds pour in, for the dedication was only a turn away. For fully half a turn cheela poured through the orifices and gathered around the inner mound. Soon the inner courtyard of the Temple was full, with little groups gathered around outside each of the twelve entrances. Some climbed laboriously up to watch from the top of the walls when they found they could not get inside.

As the time grew near, the High Priest went to fetch God’s-Chosen, who had isolated himself in the old temple. As Bright’s-First approached the old temple area, he could hear God’s-Chosen in a whispered prayer to Bright, and even he was stirred by the genuineness of the supplication.

“Bright. Give me the strength to do as you will have me do.”

The prayer stopped, for God’s-Chosen had felt the tread of the High Priest through the crust. As Bright’s-First came nearer, God’s-Chosen appeared at the entrance.

“Let us go and receive the Blessing of Bright,” he said, leading the way to the Holy Temple.

Together the High Priest and God’s-Chosen moved through the throngs gathered in front of the western orifice. They were followed by a large group of astrologers, all experienced in speaking to crowds. Slowly the
procession made its way through the packed inner courtyard and up the slopes of the Inner Eye mound.

At the top, God’s-Chosen and the High Priest took up a position at the center of the mound while the other astrologers formed a circle around them. God’s-Chosen looked out at the multitude, whose every eye seemed to be upon him. He would have liked to have talked to them all directly, but there was no way that even his far-carrying, high-pitched voice could reach them all. Fortunately, most of the throng had been to one of the previous services where he had called down the Blessing of Bright, so they knew the ritual.

God’s-Chosen scanned the Eyes. It had been many turns since he had last seen the beam from the Inner Eye, and he was now unsure exactly when to expect the Blessing to come.

God’s-Chosen began the service as they had planned it. He would chant the prayers, which would carry out and down the mound to the nearest ranks of cheela. The chant would then be repeated by the High Priest and the rest of the astrologers, the combined treading of the chorus carrying through the crust even to those at the farthest walls. The prayers would then be echoed by the rumbling treads of the multitude.

“Bright the glorious!

“We believe!

“Bring your Blessing!”

God’s-Chosen paused, but nothing happened. He went on.

“Bring your Blessing!

“Down upon us!”

He paused again, waiting in vain for the Blessing to come down upon them all. In desperation he continued.

“We are waiting.

“In your Temple!

“Bring Your Blessing!”

For the first time in many greats of turns, God’s-Chosen felt his faith falter. There was a subdued murmur from the crowd. There was nothing hostile, just bewilderment, for God’s-Chosen had never failed before.

God’s-Chosen gazed upward at the Eyes, longing for the sight of the Blessing. None came.

Without further word, God’s-Chosen moved his pale body through the ring of astrologers, down the mound and out into the multitude, heading for the eastern orifice.

Some of the crowd whispered as he passed, others reached out to touch his hot pale body with a slender tendril. The High Priest, still up on the mound, tried to salvage things by proceeding with the regular worship chants, but no one paid him heed—not even the chorus.

As God’s-Chosen left the Temple, the multitude of worshipers broke up into bewildered groups. Many had gone without food for a full turn, and they now went out to find something to eat in the overcrowded city.

By the next turn, food had run short and the crowds became nasty. Some recalled the original clan name of God’s-Chosen, and from then on, whenever he was mentioned, it was by his old name of Pink-Eyes.

The High Priest went to discuss the previous turn’s events with Hungry-Swift, the Leader of the Combined Clans. Hungry-Swift was completely demoralized by the experience.

“I am sorry that you too were taken in by that charlatan,” Bright’s-First said.

“But I saw! I saw the Blessing coming down!” protested Hungry-Swift.

“Yes—you may have seen the Blessing of Bright, but this Pink-Eyes person was using the Blessing of Bright to his own advantage,” the High Priest replied. “He said that he gave the Word of Bright, and that he was
God’s-Chosen. But was he? No! Bright chose this way to say that he was a false prophet, for Bright withheld his Blessing before all the multitude.”

“You seem to be right,” Hungry-Swift agreed.

“I am right,” the High Priest said. “I have served Bright longer than this pink-eyed hatchling. You must do something about this fraudulent impostor.”

Hungry-Swift was too dejected to do anything. Bright’s-First took advantage of his hesitancy and gave a command to a squad of troopers nearby.

“Bring Pink-Eyes to the Temple!” he commanded.

The troopers hesitated, looking at Hungry-Swift, who remained silent. Finally the troopers moved off to carry out the High Priest’s command. They found Pink-Eyes in the wilderness to the east of Bright’s Heaven. He had been going back toward the Eyes, constantly looking upward for the missing beams of light.

The troopers had no problem with Pink-Eyes, and they treated him gently. Most of them had experienced the Blessing of Bright and were still in awe of the personality in the tiny pale body.

“You are to come with us,” the squad leader stated. Without a word, Pink-Eyes reversed his direction of travel and went back along the pathway, with the troopers surrounding him.

As they slowly made their way back west, paced by the small tread of Pink-Eyes, the crowds gathered again. As they passed, most of them stared, their treads silent. Other groups, hungry and angry, muttered into the crust, and a few rolled sharp fragments of crust into the pathway in front of Pink-Eyes. He did not swerve but moved steadily onward, often leaving a sharp fragment wet with his warm white juices after his tread had passed over it. The squad leader saw what was happening, and put two troopers on either side to keep the pathway clear.

As they passed through the outskirts of Bright’s
Heaven and headed for the Temple, the crowds following them grew. As they entered the eastern orifice of the Temple, Pink-Eyes saw that the inner courtyard was partially full.

The troopers led Pink-Eyes up the inner mound where the High Priest and the Leader of the Combined Clans waited. Bright’s-First led the interrogation.