The River Wall (7 page)

We did not talk while we waited for the girl to bring our food. Charol stared at the wall, obviously trying to absorb the information we had already given him.

I had never been through what Charol was undergoing now, because, in spite of the integration of Markasset’s memories of Gandalara, I had always seen this culture and its history from the viewpoint of an outsider. When I had learned about the true nature of the Ra’ira, it had come to me simply as another fact.

Tarani’s experience had been closer to Charol’s, for the news had come to her before the integration of Tarani with Antonia, while the Gandalaran personality was consciously unaware of the human one. For her, however, this fact had been only one of many—some of them far more personal—that she had been required to absorb at once.

Then, too, acceptance had been forced on us by the circumstances. Gharlas had been demonstrating a tremendous power of compulsion when he told us the truth about the Ra’ira, and Tarani and I had been given little time or opportunity to doubt that the Ra’ira was the source of some of that power. Of course,
then
we had thought that Gharlas was using it directly.
Now
we knew the greatest part of that compulsive force had come
through
him, from Ferrathyn/Tinis, who had been using the real Ra’ira in Raithskar.

Neither I nor Tarani had ever been told something, calmly and rationally, that changed our perspective of a history we had known and trusted all our lives.

Charol’s thoughts must have been following similar lines, for after the girl had brought in a plate of sliced bread, ceramic mugs, and a pitcher filled with faen, he said: “This is how you learned about the Ra’ira’s power? Through your meeting with Zanek in the All-Mind?”

“When I left Raithskar in pursuit of Gharlas,” I said, “I did
not
know the truth. Gharlas told us the truth when we caught up with him in Dyskornis. He thought he
had
the real stone; we thought he did, too, and followed him to Eddarta, where he died trying to hold on to a worthless duplicate Ra’ira.”

“Even then”—Tarani picked up the story—“we believed that this was the real stone. We gave another glass duplicate, also made by Volitar, to my brother, Indomel, and escaped with
this
stone. By the time we were recaptured, Indomel had discovered that the stone he had was useless.”

“He made the same mistake we did,” I said. “Because he knew one was not real, he assumed the other one
was
real. And he had, seemingly, seen proof of the stones reality in the ease with which Tarani read the Bronze.”

“The Bronze?” Charol repeated.

“It is a document engraved on a large bronze plaque,” Tarani said, “a message, really, from Zanek. After the scribe had engraved the message—in the old writing, of course, with the lines placed very precisely—Zanek had him add all the other lines to make each figure the master character.”

“But how could one read a message so totally concealed?” Charol asked.

“During my first meeting with Zanek,” I interrupted, “I watched him plan and order the Bronze. I think he just knew it would work, and didn’t question it, but I believe I understand the logic he didn’t bother with. Everyone is connected to the All-Mind, with a greater or lesser
awareness
of that link. By extension, everyone is also connected to everyone else—
through
the All-Mind. Normally,” I said, “each Gandalaran can only reach the
past
All-Mind—the lifememories of those who are already dead. Those who have a special sort of mindgift
can
follow the connection through—or maybe
along
is a better word—the past and into the present, to
affect
the minds of their contemporaries.

“What I think the Ra’ira does, is it makes all those connections effortless. Zanek had planned to test possible candidates for King with the Bronze. He would be present, of course, and have the Ra’ira with him. A mindgifted boy would use the Ra’ira without realizing it, and reach back to connect with the lifememory of the man who had done the engraving, and would be able to read the message.

“Meanwhile, of course, Zanek (or the later Kings) would be using the Ra’ira consciously to see the boy’s true reaction to the words.”

“What—I mean, if I may know—what is the message written on the Bronze?”

Tarani smiled. “If we have revealed the truth about the Ra’ira, which speaks now of danger, why should we conceal Zanek’s message, which told of his goodness and hope? The Bronze carries these words …”

Tarani closed her eyes and, from memory, recited Zanek’s message:

THESE ARE THE WEAPONS OF WHICH I GIVE THEE CHARGE AND WARNING:

THIS IS THE TASK I GIVE THEE AS FIRST DUTY:

Charol sat motionless as Tarani’s vibrant voice spoke the words which the First King had left for all of his successors. When Tarani opened her eyes and smiled shakily, obviously moved as deeply by this memory as when she had first read those words, Charol twitched as if he were rousing from a trance.

“I—forgive me for my slowness, but I see contradiction in this. You have said that the message could be read only with the aid of the Ra’ira, and you have also said that the true Ra’ira was never
in
Eddarta to aid the High Lord?”

I felt that welcome sense of confidence that comes at the end of a struggle for understanding of a worrisome problem. Charol was verbalizing a lot of the same questions I had been suppressing or dealing with on the subconscious level. As we had talked, the questions—and some unrecognized answers—had surfaced to the conscious level.

“I think,” I said slowly, “that the specific mindgift discipline of the Recorder was developed long after Zanek’s time. Because of her Recorder training, Tarani has a very strong link with the All-Mind. I believe that her skills were functioning on an unconscious level, and they guided her and connected her to the craftsman’s memory.

“The Bronze has continued to be a test for mindgift—but the boys who have been tested since the fall of the Kingdom have been able to get only a few words, without the benefit of either the Ra’ira or Recorder training.”

“The words,” Charol said, with a deep sigh. “How could the Kings have turned against those wonderful words?”

“That,” I answered, “could be a matter of perspective. Once the Kingdom was well established, and all of Gandalara dependent on the Kings for leadership, it would have been an easy and logical step to begin to believe that the ‘highest benefit to all men’ lay in the comfort and security of the Kings.”

“So,” Charol said, “Zanek returned as Serkajon and took the Ra’ira away from the Kings. Having heard his message, I see why he would want to deprive them of its power, but—well, if it had been my choice, and I had seen my—well, my vision so corrupted, I believe I would have destroyed the gem.”

Good for you
, I cheered silently.
You just climbed a few points on my scale of good people, Charol—and removed any doubts I might have had about telling you all this.

“Zanek did try to destroy the Ra’ira,” I told the Elder. “The stone seems to be indestructible. So he did the next best thing; he used the Ra’ira one more time to choose twelve honorable men. He entrusted the secret of the stone to them, and charged them with keeping it safe from misuse.”

“The Council of Supervisors?” Charol asked.

“It seems to me,” Tarani said, “that Zanek would have made a deliberate choice
against
the mindgifted, so that the Supervisors themselves could not be tempted by the Ra’iras power.”

“That makes sense,” I said, “but it does make me wonder about the vineh.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Could the mindgift of controlling the vineh be a different
quality
of mindpower? Something like that used by the maufel in directing their message birds? Perhaps the Supervisors were not on guard against that sort of gift—or could not recognize it.”

“Or it may be,” I added, “that the Ra’ira has different levels of function—that the mindgifted can affect other people, but those with no natural gift—or one that has been unrecognized until the Supervisor screening—could learn to use the Ra’ira on animals.”

I glanced at Charol and realized that Tarani and I had left him behind. “I’m sorry, Charol—what you don’t know is that sometime in the centuries since Serkajon—in a fairly recent time, I believe—the Supervisors began using the Ra’ira again to train and control the vineh, and put them to work in the city.”

The Elder’s eyes widened. “Then there was no illness among the vineh in Raithskar? The removal of the Ra’ira merely let them revert to natural behavior?”

I squirmed in my chair.
Now we get down to the nitty-gritty,
I thought.

“Not exactly. You see, the Ra’ira never left Raithskar. The vineh are
still
being controlled.”

Charol was quick to pick up the implication, and it clearly horrified him. “Do you mean to say that the disruption in Raithskar, the danger from the vineh—that these are the result of someone’s
deliberate
action? Who?” he demanded. “Who would do such a thing, and why?”

“We have told you,” Tarani said, “what we
know
of this, and some opinion which has been derived from that knowledge. We
are
reasonably sure that the Ra’ira is indeed finding use, still, in the vineh activity around Raithskar.

“The identity of the man who is doing this—and his reasons—are the subjects of less certain speculation.” Tarani glanced at me, and I nodded. “Yet we are confident of our conclusions. One of the Supervisors in Raithskar once lived in Eddarta under the name of Tinis—”

Charol gasped, and Tarani nodded to confirm his guess.

“I see why you have guarded this knowledge so carefully,” Charol said, standing up and beginning to pace in an erratic circle. “I am grateful for your trust, and quite convinced of the danger. As a boy, I heard the stories of Tinis—of his arrogance, his power, and his fury.

“I will not,” Charol continued, “ask how Tinis attained leadership among men committed to guarding against this very thing. Nor will I inquire about the manner in which the supposed theft was contrived. My mind is reeling now; I shall not burden it further with nonessential details.”

He stood up straight.

“You spoke of a choice, and I believe I am now in the position of making that choice on behalf of all Fa’aldu. Speaking not as Elder of Iribos but for all Elders, I do need to know three things before I can make that choice:

“First, what does Tinis—or Ferrathyn—want?

“Second, what do you—the High Lord of Eddarta and the Captain of the Sharith—want?

“Lastly, how will the Fa’aldu be involved in what you want?”

“Those are fair questions,” Tarani said. She stood up and walked to the open window, lowered her hip to the sill and looked out at the inner courtyard. I could just see past her; children were building fires in the ovens, and women were mixing dough. “Easily asked,” she said musingly, “but less easily answered.”

“I believe,” I spoke up, “that Ferrathyn wants
power
—not the kind he has in Raithskar, covert and unacknowledged—but the outright power of a ruler. I also believe,” I added, recalling the terror in the lifememory of Gharlas’s ancestor, “that he especially wants to wield that kind of power in Eddarta, over the Lords who scorned, exiled, and probably tried to kill him.”

Tarani turned back to us, braced her hands on her knees, and leaned forward.

“
We
want to stop him,” she said, “to remove the Ra’ira from his reach. As to what we would ask of the Fa’aldu in support of that effort …” She shrugged. “We have no idea of what Ferrathyn plans, and therefore can compose no strategy to counteract his plans. Although Rikardon and I have had no opportunity to discuss this, I believe I may assure you that we would prefer to deal, singly and alone, with Ferrathyn.”

She glanced at me, and I nodded.

“That’s why we’re on our way back to Raithskar now,” I said. “We’re afraid that if we can’t stop him there, he’ll drive an army of men and vineh all the way to Eddarta. If that happens …”

“A choice will be forced on everyone,” Charol said angrily. “I see it in what I know of Tinis. He will brook no neutrality. Those who do not support him will be destroyed.”

“Or,” Tarani said quietly, “
persuaded
to join him.”

The old man’s face paled, and a muscle flexed in his neck. “The law of the Fa’aldu allows one Elder to speak for all,” he said. “Balgokh asked the Families for friendship for his friend Rikardon. Short of bearing arms or denying water, the service of the Fa’aldu is pledged to the Captain and the High Lord. How may we help?”

I stood up. At the judgment, I had spoken impulsively, with no conscious purpose other than to sway the decision in Veron’s favor. Now I saw a deeper, unrecognized purpose.