Homesmind (3 page)

—That sort of dreaming isn't for us— Gennon said. Anra nodded in agreement. Skydwellers could control their dreaming, but Earthfolk, used to a harder life, might find the dreams a seductive escape. The villagers had always avoided such a pursuit, afraid that it might weaken them, and Anra had often thought that even the skydwellers might have been stronger without the dreams.

Gennon rose. Taking the two little boys by their hands, he strolled slowly up the bank toward his own hut.

—Maybe we could travel together— Fiella said as she stood up. —Lydee's taught you how to pilot her craft and Luret could show me—

—It's easy enough to learn— Anra said. —A craft pilots itself most of the time. Maybe if we began to bring solitaries back here ourselves, Luret and Wiland could stay here for a while without wandering. I know how much they'd like to raise their own children—

—I don't know. There's something in my sister's mind that drives her. I sometimes think she would keep wandering as long as she thought that there was even one person who might need her— Fiella's thoughts were still for a moment. —Luret told me that Lydee wept after Cerwen died. She saw two tears on her face—

Anra was surprised. She had thought that Lydee was still too much of a skydweller to weep. —I know why she wept, then. Cerwen thinks he'll live on in another life— She paused as she stood up; she was speaking of the old man as if he still lived. "Lydee knows he won't." As she spoke out loud, she began to mask her thoughts.

"You don't have to hide your thoughts from me," Fiella said as they walked up the bank toward the huts. "I also doubt. The skydwellers have traveled the heavens and have found no sign of God, the Merged One."

"The heavens are so vast that God could hide in them. All of the sky might only be a dream in the mind of the Merged One." Anra was echoing Cerwen's assertions. "But I don't doubt for your reasons. It's because of what happens when people cling to such things. The old ones here are kind, but in the time before the skydwellers came, they put their solitary children to death because they believed they had no souls. And they struck out at the skydwellers because their beliefs told them that such people had to be evil. I'd rather believe in nothing than in One Who could allow that."

"And yet the old ones gain comfort from their faith."

—Yes— Anra said, mindspeaking again. —And many other Earthfolk still believe that God must have worked through people when the Minds were built, that we could not have created Them by ourselves. If they could shed such beliefs, Earth might change. They'd understand that we have the power to do more than they realize—

—Perhaps— Fiella said. —But until the old ones everywhere die, many will hide their doubts. I know you mourn your great-grandfather, but a part of you knows that his passing was for the best. Cerwen knew it, too. Daiya told my mother that Cerwen spoke of a cycle drawing to an end, and they wondered what he could have meant. Well, I know. Cerwen knew his world was ending and that it had to end. He chose to die before it did—

Anra withdrew from her friend's thoughts. Fiella's musings had eased her grief a little. Fiella touched her arm, then turned toward the path leading to her own hut.

Anra walked on alone. The babbling of the children she passed seemed muffled; the odors of cooking food were thick and smoky. Her eyesight blurred and she squinted, repressing her tears. She suddenly wondered if Cerwen had touched her hidden thoughts, if without her knowing it he had sensed that she believed his death was necessary.

As she came to her own hut, she heard a small, childish voice, then an answering croon from Daiya. She hurried inside.

Reiho had laid out a meal of protein cakes and other skydweller foods; a vegetable soup was bubbling in a pot over the fire. Daiya sat on the floor, playing with a small, black-haired child.

"Chal," Anra said aloud.

"Aah!" the little boy answered, looking up at her with almond-shaped eyes that resembled Reiho's. His thoughts, in spite of his implant, were confused babblings; he was too young to know how to direct them.

"Say 'Anra,' " Daiya said aloud.

"Ana!"

Anra sat down as Daiya carried the toddler to the table. Reiho began to ladle out soup. Chal gurgled as Anra read her aunt's thoughts. Leito, who had cared for Chal ever since he had been brought to the village, had left him there that afternoon.

"You're visiting again," Anra said to the boy.

Daiya shook her head. —No, he's staying this time— Reiho set bowls on the table; Daiya began to feed the child with a wooden spoon.

—But why?— Anra asked, though she was already sensing the answer.

—Leito is old. She knows her time may come soon, and she felt that Chal should be with us. She'll still see him every day, but if he gets used to living here, he won't feel her loss as much when she's gone—

—But Leito's not ill—

—She's very old. She has to think of dial's welfare. Deene and Vasen would have taken him, but they're caring for one child already, and they no longer have the strength to care for two—

Anra gazed at the boy sadly; so Leito was already preparing for death. She patted the child on the head, trying to cheer him with warm thoughts, but he was sensing her sorrow as well, and began to whimper. "I'll have a foster brother, then," she said aloud.

Daiya smiled. "I've seen your thoughts during these past days," she murmured. "You felt that we especially needed you now, and perhaps we did. But mourning has to end. You have your own life to consider. You've lived for fifteen cycles of the seasons. In the old times, at your age, we were ready to leave our parents' huts then, to choose a partner or to live with friends until a partner was found. You're free to do that, if you wish."

"She's still young," Reiho objected.

"On your world, not ours. She's a young woman now."

"I was afraid to ask," Anra said. "I thought it might be too soon after ..." She shielded her thoughts, not wanting Chal to cry again, and noticed that Daiya and Reiho were shielding theirs as well. The boy hummed to himself, no longer sensing their unhappiness, then swallowed another spoonful of soup.

"You'll still be in the village," Daiya said. "We'll be here if you need us."

Anra sipped some soup, then nibbled at a protein cake. Cerwen had come here often when she was younger; he had sat next to her at this table. Everything in the hut reminded her of him; she looked up, almost expecting to see him in the doorway.

Daiya touched her thoughts gently. "When I was younger," she said aloud, "I often went into the desert beyond the mountains to clear my mind, to hear my own thoughts apart from the murmurings of others. Maybe you should do the same, Anra. You might need such a period of solitude now."

Anra looked up. "Do you think so?"

"It might help. You could carry your grief with you and leave it behind when you return, heal yourself."

"I could go with you," Reiho said.

Anra shook her head. "You should stay with Daiya and Chal." She rose. "I'll have to make other journeys someday, so maybe this one will prepare me. I'd better get ready."

"But it's almost night."

"I should go now. If I wait, I might be afraid to go." She had only gone as far as the foothills before, and always with friends. Crossing the room, she took a water jug from one shelf, opened it, and began to fill a skin. Reiho came to her side and put some supplies into a pack, then handed it to her; she added two skins of wine before hoisting the pack to her back. Reiho tugged at the ropes, tying them across her chest. The pack felt heavier than she had expected. She hesitated, then tucked her knife into her belt.

"Are you sure you should go alone?" Reiho asked. "I could take you there in a shuttle."

"The walk will do me good." She went to Daiya and kissed her aunt on the cheek. Reiho could never give the woman a child of her own, and perhaps Chal would now fill the gap Anra would leave in her aunt's life.

"Don't stay away too long," Daiya said. "If you need us, call to us through the Minds."

She walked south through a field of wheat, not wanting to pass near Cerwen's grave. Light glowed at the edge of the field. A large tent had been pitched; shadows flitted along its sides. Near the tent, three shuttlecraft stood in a row; only two had been there yesterday. She was about to turn east, toward the mountains, when the tent flap was lifted.

"Anra!" Jerod called out. The bald man had shed his silver suit and wore only a white loincloth and belt; a bracelet of colored gems glittered on his wrist. "Do come in. An old friend of yours has returned." He spoke in the skydwellers' slurred, melodic tongue, giving each word a lilting flourish.

She was about to refuse, then changed her mind. Jerod, at least, would not probe her mind. Even the skydwellers who had visited Earth frequently kept most of their thoughts to themselves.

Jerod held the flap open as she entered, then let it fall. Anra slipped off her pack, dropping it to the ground. The tent was filled with a soft, rosy light. Two women and a man were reclining on red cushions; a silver platform in front of them held crystal flagons and silver bowls filled with various foods.

At least they were not dreaming. Anra hated to see skydwellers dreaming, losing themselves in the vivid images and sensations provided by their links. She had once asked Homesmind why It allowed such dreaming, and It had argued that dreaming was no worse than wine or games. At any rate, the cometdwellers' Mind had little to say about the matter; Its people had created It and their directives had been built into Homesmind. The skydwellers' lives were so peaceful and pleasant that their escapes into dreams were only intermittent, but Anra had wondered what they might do if life became harder and more uncertain; dreaming might tempt them more then. One might lose a lifetime in a dream.

Jerod's three friends were wearing their protective silver suits, which clung to their bodies like skin; they were not as reckless as he. Anra gazed toward one corner; another woman sat there with a flat, rectangular reader on her lap.

The woman looked up and smiled. "Anra?" Her voice sounded uncertain. "You've grown." She drew her thin brows together. "Don't you remember me?"

"Of course I do, Etey." Anra was about to walk toward the woman, then halted, suddenly conscious of her worn, soiled tunic, her frayed pants, and the odors of dirt and sweat that still clung to her.

Etey rose and went to the group, settling herself on one cushion. "Sit down," she said, patting the cushion next to her. "You used to be such a chubby child, and now you're so slender. I thought you might be stocky, like your aunts." She said the last word in Earth's language, having no such expression in her own tongue.

Anra sat down. The blond woman next to Jerod wrinkled her nose.

Etey had not changed. Her short, frizzy red hair barely covered her skull; her brown, perfect face was unlined. Only her dark, tilted eyes betrayed her age; they were ancient eyes that gazed out calmly at the world.

"Etey would have come to see you immediately after her arrival," Jerod said as he draped an arm over his knee, "but she is in the process of readapting."

"You were away a long time," Anra said to Etey in the skydwellers' tongue. Her speech seemed dull and flat. Skydwellers often seemed to play with their words; one word, in their mouths, often seemed to mean many different things. She could never make their language sound quite as musical as the visitors did, and their closed minds could not sense the undercurrents of thought that might have lent her words more feeling. Even Jerod, who had sometimes mindspoken with her, was keeping his wall up.

"It hasn't been so long," Etey murmured.

"Nearly five years."

Etey's brown eyes widened. "Now that I see you, it seems it has been long." She stretched out a hand, accepting a goblet from the dark-haired man, and gave it to Anra.

Anra sipped. The wine tasted of fruit and another flavor she could not name.

"You know Chilon," Jerod said, gesturing at the dark-haired man, "and Tuela." Anra nodded, having met the two a couple of times before. Tuela smiled; even in this light, her black skin had a bluish sheen. "Our other friend is Kemie." The blond woman lowered her long lashes. "She came here with Etey—it's her first trip to this world."

"Where are your other friends?" Anra asked, regretting the question immediately when she saw the embarrassed look on Jerod's face. He bowed his head; metallic wires as thin as hairs gleamed on his bald skull.

"Two sleep in the craft outside," he replied after a pause. "They still fear Earth's nights." She caught a faint mental whisper before he again closed his mind; the others, bewildered by the approaching death of a villager, had fled to the comet three days earlier. Jerod had known Cerwen, yet he had not gone to say farewell to him. The skydweller had not even comforted his old friend Lydee. But Anra could understand his actions. She had struggled against Cerwen's death; for skydwellers, who were used to living as long as they chose, such a death was even harder to accept.

"I have been quite distracted," Etey said. "I did want to contribute a few notions for the design of the new comet world. Homesmind's robotic minions have been so
busy
." She picked up a bowl and offered it to Anra, who selected one delicacy, gazed at the tiny, frosted square uncertainly, then popped it into her mouth. Its sweetness was cloying. She washed it down with some wine and almost wiped her mouth on her sleeve; Kemie pursed her lips disapprovingly. Anra let her arm drop. Kemie tilted her blond head; her pale, yellowish eyes were searching Anra's face as if she did not know what to make of the Earthgirl.

"Daiya and Reiho will be happy to see you," Anra said.

"I should have spoken to them through Homesmind more often, I know." Etey selected a piece of food, then set the bowl down. "They'll find my mindspeech lacking since my absence, and when I left here to return to the Wanderer, everyone there found me so rough."

"Not rough," Kemie said. "Only very brisk, and sometimes too forceful."

"Well," Etey said, "I shall now have to adjust all over again and must polish my mindspeech. And what have you been doing, Anra?"