Earthborn (Homecoming) (53 page)

The old woman looked at him through rheumy eyes; the lack of focus in her gaze told him that she was nearly blind. Withered and bent, she was still a digger, still had the massive haunches and the probing snout. In spite of himself, he saw for a fleeting moment the image of a giant digger, towering over him with a whip in his hand, laying on with the lash because he dared to rest a moment in the hot sunlight. He felt the sting across his back; and then, worse yet, saw the same lash come down on his mother’s back and he was powerless to stop it. Rage flashed through him.

And then was gone. For now he saw that this old woman was not the same as the guard who had beaten him with such obvious pleasure in his cruelty and authority. How could he have ever hated all diggers for the actions of a few? And now he knew that he had
been no better than they were: When the path of his life gave him a bit of power and influence, what had he done with it, that differed in any important way from what they did, except that his crimes were on a larger scale and he did a better job of lying to himself about what he was doing? I have been a digger a thousand times over; I have seen their suffering with the knowledge that I caused it. I forgive the digger guards who mistreated us. I value even their miserable lives; the harm they did to us cost us only pain, while it cost them the love of the Keeper—a far more terrible price, even if they didn’t understand the reason for the emptiness and agony in their hearts.

Akma knelt before the old woman, so her bent-over head and his were at the same level. She leaned close to him, her nose almost touching him; was the sniffing at him? No, merely trying to see his face. “This is the one I saw in my dream,” she said. “The Keeper thinks you’re worth a lot of trouble.”

“Voozhum,” he said, “I harmed you and all your people. I told terrible lies about you. I stirred up hatred and fear, and your people hungered and hurt because of me.”

“Oh, that wasn’t you,” said Voozhum. “That boy died. It seems to me that you spent all those years just trying to find a way to kill that boy, and finally you did, and now you’re a new man. Tall for a newborn and more eloquent than most. But the new Akma doesn’t hate me.”

Impulsively he said the thought that had only just occurred to him. “I think I have never seen a woman so beautiful.”

“Well, now, you must be looking over my shoulder at Edhadeya,” Voozhum said.

“Edhadeya and I have years ahead of us to watch her become as beautiful as you,” said Akma. “I think she will, don’t you, Voozhum?”

“Definitely. It’s the hump of my back that I think is especially fetching.” Voozhum cackled with laughter at her own jest.

“Will you teach me how to undo my past life?” asked Akma.

“No,” she said. “Not the whole thing. Only the bad bits.”

“Yes, that’s right, the bad bits.”

“Don’t want you to undo the part where you were brave. Or that clever scholar. Or the boy who had sense enough to fall in love with Edhadeya.” Voozhum took Akma’s hand and carefully, clumsily, put Edhadeya’s fingers on his. “Now Edhadeya, let’s not have any nonsense about pretending not to know what you want, all right?” said Voozhum. “You loved him right through the whole time he was unbelievably stupid, and now he’s found his wits and become his true self, which is what you saw and loved in him all along. So you just tell him that you know the two of you can work everything out. Tell him!”

Akma felt Edhadeya’s fingers close on his. “I know the two of us can work everything out, Akma,” she said. “If you want to.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ve been alone,” he said, unable to explain more of his experience in solitude than that. “I’m done with that.” There would be time later to speak of the family they would create together, the life they both would share. He knew she would be with him; he knew he would be with her. That was enough for now.

“Give me your hand again,” said Voozhum. “And hold the hand of that miserable bookworm on the other side. There was an ancient dream from the Keeper and I had an echo of it this morning, so let’s follow the script she’s given us and show ourselves to the crowd outside.”

“Crowd?”

“Won’t do any good to put on the show without an audience,” said Voozhum. “The bigots need to see you holding the hands of an angel and a digger. And my people need to see that this old woman, at least, has forgiven you and that I accept you as a new man.
All that information, and we can do it just by walking through that door.”

Shedemei opened the door for them. The curious crowd had gathered in the streets, filling the intersection, watching for Akma, the son of the high priest who had been struck down by the Keeper and then arose again. Now as the door opened and first Voozhum, then Akma, then Bego emerged, a tumult arose from many throats. They could see that the three of them were holding hands. They watched as Akma knelt, so that his head was of a height with the bent old philosopher and the frail scholar. He took their hands and kissed them. “My brother and my sister have forgiven me,” he said loudly to the crowd. “I beg the forgiveness of all good men and women. All that I taught was a lie. The Keeper lives, and the Kept will show us all the way to happiness. If there is anyone here who approved of my words and works for the past few years, then I beg you, learn from my mistakes and change your heart.”

Shedemei noticed with relief that there were no rhetorical flourishes. His speech was simple, direct, sincere. Still, she had no illusions. The vile sort of people to whom he had once been a hero would now simply see him as a traitor. Few of them would be won over. The hope, as always, lay in the next generation, to whom Akma’s story would be fresh and powerful.

As for the Assembly of the Ancient Ways, it had already collapsed. Aronha had officially dissolved it before Akma even arose from his coma, and though a few diehard digger-haters had organized a new version of it, there was no popular support. All those who had supported the Ancient Ways because it seemed like the wave of the future had already begun to remember that they always preferred the Kept. Those who had kept the boycott against the diggers out of fear or fashion were already seeking out their old clients and hirelings among the earth people, hiring those who
were willing to forgive and return to work, buying up the unsold stockpiles of tradesmen’s work. No one was foolish enough to think that this represented a vast change of heart in the population as a whole—the Kept who were truly committed to serving the Keeper were no more numerous now than they were before Shedemei had appeared to Akma and the Motiaki on the road. But as long as the genial hypocrites were willing to go through the motions and mouth the words, there was hope that more of their children would take the Keeper’s plan into their hearts. And in the meantime, even empty lip service to the idea that all three peoples of the Earth were children of the Keeper would be enough to provide for peace and freedom within the borders of Darakemba. It’s a starting point, Shedemei thought. A beginning, and we can rise from here.

Outside the school, a new tumult arose, and Shedemei stepped with Edhadeya through the door to see what was happening. The crowd parted, and the four sons of Motiak arrived. They had all visited the school often in the past few days, and each had reconciled with Edhadeya—Shedemei could see how relieved they were to be back in the good graces of their sister, not to mention their father. All four of them climbed the steps and embraced first Voozhum, then Bego, then Akma, then Edhadeya. As a pageant of reconciliation it was working very nicely.

Miss me? asked Shedemei.

Congratulations. You’ve accomplished all that your other iteration sent you here to do.

I doubt that, Shedemei said silently. I think we’ll
find ways to keep busy. Aren’t you programmed to be curious?

What an interesting and useless way to spend your time. What does it matter whether the Keeper actually uses magnetics or that was simply the closest I could come to understanding what she actually does?

What did you find?

My favorite kind. Go ahead.

So far, anyway, said Shedemei silently.

Not really. As long as I wear the cloak of the starmaster,
you’re a part of me, whatever else you are, and I’m a part of you. Even if I do as I’m tempted and take a husband here and squeeze another baby out of this old body, we’ll be bound together for a long time to come. My life has enough meaning to share some of it with you, even if you
are
a supernumerary now.

Mon, laughing, was speaking to the crowd. Someone had asked a question. “Of course the three species are different,” Mon said. “That’s not a mistake. The Keeper looked at humans and said, How inadequate! They can’t see in the dark! They only live on the surface of the earth! They can’t fly! We need something else to make the world perfect. And so we were sent out of the room like bad children while the Keeper brought two more species to a point where they could take their place with humans as brothers and sisters. And the Keeper was right! We humans
weren’t
complete! Why, I spent my whole childhood wishing I were an angel. And I could spend my whole life trying and never come close to the wisdom and kindness of this old woman. So yes, my friend, the differences between the three peoples of Earth are real and they’re important—but they’re the reason we must live together, and not at all a reason for us to live apart!”

A cheer arose from the crowd, long and loud. Shedemei turned to Edhadeya and the two of them laughed together. “Listen to him,” Edhadeya said. “Now that he’s saying things he really believes in, Mon may turn out to be the best teacher of all.”

Shedemei felt a tug on her clothing. She turned around to find one of the youngest sky girls looking up at her. She bent down to hear.

“Shedemei, I know you’re in a bad mood today, but I have to tell you, mNo just threw up and I can’t find anybody but you.”

Sighing, Shedemei left the great public spectacle
and returned to the mundane duties of the school. This one-day nausea had been going around the school and Shedemei was not looking forward to the time when she inevitably caught it herself. In the meantime, there was vomit to clean up and a little sick girl to wash and put to bed until her parents could come for her. Menial, wearying work, and Shedemei was very good at it.