Seeker

by William Nicholson

  Morning Star had at last been released from her chain. Indeed, it was necessary if she were to be fitted for the new dress. She showed no inclination to escape.

  "The king is very magnificent," Blessing told her. "I hope you won't be overawed by his presence."

  "I come with a message from a power even greater than the king," said Morning Star quietly.

  When Soren Similin arrived on the temple terrace for the evening offering, the High Priest greeted him with more warmth than usual.

  "Ah, Secretary. I hear you've been away from court. I trust you return refreshed."

  "Thank you, Holiness."

  From beyond the closed doors came the sounds of the king's hate session.

  "Suffer and die! Suffer and die!"

  Ba-ba-ba-bam! Ba-ba-ba-bam!

  "Nomana die! Nomana die!"

  Ba-ba-ba-bam! Ba-ba-ba-bam!

  The priest on duty for the evening offering entered.

  "Am I to prepare the tribute, Holiness?"

  "Yes. Go ahead."

  "We have a name-day offering this evening, Holiness."

  "Oh? Whose name day?"

  "The oil merchant Cheerful Giver."

  "That money-grubber! Hoping to buy himself more status, I suppose. What sort of tribute is he offering?"

  "A female tribute. The word is she's willing."

  "I'll believe that when I see it."

  The secretary heard this exchange, but he had no interest in the details of the ceremony. As soon as it was over, he would return to the laboratory, and there he would set in train a sequence of events that would change everything.

  The priest on duty proceeded to the tanks to collect the evening's tribute. The guards opened the grid door, and the priest pointed to Mercy.

  "She's the one."

  Mercy rose and made her way up the steps without a moment's hesitation. The Wildman took in what was happening just a few seconds too late.

  "No!" he cried. "Not her! Don't take her!"

  The grid door dropped down onto him, knocking him to the floor. The heavy bolts slammed home. He was up and hanging from the bars, rattling and screaming, before the priest and the tribute were out of the door.

  "Not her!" he screamed. "Not her!"

  Mercy turned and looked back and gave him a sweet sad smile. He saw in that look that she was ready, even willing, to die, but all the raging life force in him cried out against it. He turned and howled at the rest of the prisoners, who looked on, silent in the tank.

  "Are you dead already? Why don't you shout? Why don't you scream? Don't let them do this! What are you? Chickens? We're going to die anyway! Don't die silent! Die noisy! Die yelling! Die loud!"

  He followed this with a great wordless howl of fury.

  "Aieee-ee-ee!"

  ***

  Outside, the bells were ringing and the people of Radiance were streaming into the temple square. The sun was dropping towards the lake horizon, and market traders were calling out their wares. The chatter of the crowd filled the air.

  Cheerful Giver and his family, which now included Morning Star, reached the temple terrace just a little too early The king had not yet emerged. The High Priest began at once to make the speech required of him by tradition, thanking Cheerful Giver for providing the evening's offering. This speech should have been made in the presence of the king. Cheerful Giver, smiling and bowing as if he were the happiest man in Radiance, understood very well that the High Priest meant to deprive him of his due honor. He consoled himself with the thought that the High Priest had a surprise coming.

  In the secret laboratory, Professor Ortus had now pretended to repair the fault he had pretended to find. Therefore he called his team together and instructed them to attend the evening offering.

  "We have a long night ahead of us," he said. "Pray to the Radiant Power for the strength to complete our great task. Return at midnight."

  He himself remained in the laboratory.

  As soon as they were gone, he unlocked the storeroom where Seeker was hidden and, putting one finger to his lips, beckoned him to come out.

  "We must make as little noise as possible," he whispered. "No one must know."

  He glanced at the locked canteen door, beyond which Blaze, the only other person now in the laboratory, was resting. No sound came from within. With luck, he was even asleep. So long as they kept their voices low, the scientist was confident that Blaze would not guess what was happening. And even if he did, Ortus had seen that blank foolish face. He expected no trouble there.

  Seeker was standing gazing in awe at the banks of solar tubes, now glowing pink in the light of the setting sun. He asked no questions. But as Blaze had done, he moved forward to the chair that stood bolted to the floor at the center of the apparatus and ran his fingers over its sturdy arms.

  "This is the weapon that will destroy Anacrea?"

  "This is it."

  "How does it work?"

  "I'll show you. But first, I have to strap you in."

  Seeker looked round the looming towers of pipes and vessels, and up at the yoke that hung above him. He found it all extremely frightening. But he was also puzzled.

  "Sit in the chair," said Ortus, trying not to sound too eager.

  Seeker hesitated for a moment longer. Then he sat in the chair.

  A small cheer from the crowd greeted the appearance of the procession of three priests escorting the evening's tribute. Morning Star looked across the terrace and saw the indistinct figure of a woman in white. She felt a sharp pang of guilt. This should have been her. All the time she had been plotting to free herself, she had somehow managed not to think that her survival was someone else's death. Distressed, she looked away.

  The king emerged at last. He came hobbling onto the terrace, his face pink from shouting, and stood with his arms raised, to be dressed in the ceremonial cape. At this point the High Priest should have presented Cheerful Giver and his family, but he made no move to do so. Cheerful Giver, smiling even more grimly, was obliged to present himself.

  "Radiance, today is my name day, and I am proud to offer this day's tribute."

  "Proud? What's there to be proud about? Oh, yes. I see. Your name day." The priest-king peered towards the tribute procession. "Well done. That's the spirit. Though I don't suppose you won him in battle, eh?"

  He laughed, and so Cheerful Giver laughed.

  "No, Radiance. My tribute is a lady."

  "A lady! I say! Well done!"

  "Aieee-ee-ee!" screamed the Wildman in the tanks. "Die noisy! Die loud!"

  Now the younger spikers caught his rebellious mood and joined his cry.

  "Yaa-aa-ee-eee!"

  Now others were shouting, too. They lived with so much fear, the screaming came as a release. As more and more joined in, the level of noise rose until even the most fearful felt they had nothing to lose. The Wildman stood at their head, banging the hinged grid against its bolts, and the hundreds of prisoners bayed like demented animals.

  On the temple terrace, Blessing stood at her husband's side, looking before her with a beatific gaze. She whispered to her husband.

  "Present the child."

  The High Priest, his eyes on the tribute procession, determinedly paying no attention to Cheerful Giver's moment of glory, became aware that some sort of commotion was going on in the tanks. He beckoned to one of his priests.

  "That noise. Put a stop to it."

  The priest departed. The High Priest turned to see Cheerful Giver presenting a girl in a white dress to the king.

  "Radiance! May I introduce my adopted daughter, Morning Star."

  The king looked at Morning Star with mild surprise.

  "I didn't know you had an adopted daughter."

  "She has a message for you, Radiance."

  Cheerful Giver saw that the keeper was holding up the Corona, ready for him to place it on the king's shoulders. The ceremonial procedures could not wait. The sun was descending. So with an encouraging nod to Morning Star, he went ab
out his duties, pleasantly aware that his words had caused general surprise.

  "Message?" said the king.

  "Message?" said the High Priest.

  ***

  In the adjacent laboratory, Evor Ortus too heard the shouts from the tanks, but he paid no attention. His hands were shaking as he fastened the straps round Seeker's wrists. He couldn't help himself; he was nervous. So much was at stake.

  "There we go," he said. "Nice and snug."

  "I don't understand what this is supposed to do," said the boy.

  He was shivering. It struck Ortus that the boy was frightened, and he should say something to reassure him.

  "It's to make you strong," he said. "Stronger even than the Nomana. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  "How will it make me strong?"

  "This machine is going to fill you with power. Once I have you joined up, you'll feel the power flow into you. Then you'll be a conqueror! You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  The boy didn't answer. Ortus reached up for the dangling yoke and drew it down into position over the boy's shoulders.

  "All you'll feel will be a tiny prick on the side of your neck."

  The Wildman screamed and banged at the overhead bars of the tank, and with him all the other prisoners screamed and banged. They were delirious with the sound of their own fear and anger: all wild men now. The guards on duty struck the grid with sticks and shouted orders, but to no avail. When the High Priest's envoy entered, demanding that the prisoners be silenced, his instructions could barely be heard.

  "Stop them!" he shrieked. "Beat them! Crush them!"

  The guards unbolted the door in the grid. Two of them lifted the heavy hinged lid so that the others could drop down into the tank and beat the rioters into silence.

  This was a mistake.

  Morning Star saw every face on the temple terrace staring at her. Cheerful Giver's brow was shining with nervous perspiration. The king was glowering at her with mounting impatience.

  Blessing prompted her.

  "Remember what you told us," she whispered. "There is one whose heart is dark."

  Morning Star knew she must speak.

  "I am to bring you a warning, Radiance," she said. "The enemy is nearer than you think."

  They all heard her. An electric silence fell.

  "The girl is a messenger," said Blessing. "From the Radiant Power."

  "Radiance," said Morning Star, lowering her voice to a tiny whisper. "My message is for you alone."

  The king's eyes opened wide, and he crouched down, to hear her more clearly.

  "Come," he said. "Whisper it to me. But hurry. The sun is setting."

  Morning Star approached him. As she did so, she studied his colors, and there at last she found the clue she needed. There, almost hidden beneath the dominant deep yellows and browns, the arrogance and the indifference, was a shade of pale blue that merged as she looked into blue-green, the color of unmet need. All men look to the king for praise. Where is the king to look?

  "Radiance," she whispered. "The Great Power loves you, and calls you his son."

  "His son!" The king's eyes widened further.

  "Radiance!" warned the High Priest. "The sun is setting!"

  The king stood up again and saw that the priests and the tribute were now in place on the temple rock. He fixed his gaze on the red orb that was dropping towards the lake horizon.

  "Father!" he murmured. "I thank you!"

  Turning to Morning Star he said, "We will talk more later, child. You will tell me of this enemy."

  Morning Star drew a quiet breath of relief She had survived; this far at least. She looked guiltily towards the tribute, the woman in white who was now about to die in her place. And as she looked, she had a strange sensation. It was as if she knew her.

  Who are you?

  The tribute turned and looked at her, exactly as if she had heard her silent question. For the first time, Morning Star saw her face, and as she did so, a flash of pure memory broke through into her trembling mind. She had seen that sweet head turn like this before. She had seen that sweet face look down on her before. She had felt before this simple overwhelming sensation that she was loved.

  Mama?

  The first guard swung himself down into the mass of howling prisoners in the tank and struck out to left and right.

  "Get the yellow-haired one!" shouted the second guard. "He's the ringleader!"

  The Wildman backed away before him, drawing him deeper into the tank, and the rest of the guards followed. Then with a howl of startling ferocity he sprang forward, seized the guard by the throat, and smashed him to the ground. At once, as if this alone had been the signal they had been waiting for, the other prisoners charged the guards, making up in sheer numbers what they lacked in weaponry.

  "Die loud!" yelled the Wildman. "Die fighting!"

  "Radiance! We must proceed with the ceremony at once! The sun is setting!"

  "Why is the tribute staring at us like that?"

  The sun was nearing the surface of the water. The tribute stood motionless, looking back. The priests round her urged her forward, but she would not move.

  "Why doesn't she move?" said Cheerful Giver. "She must fall!"

  Morning Star knew that it was her eyes and her will alone that held the tribute motionless. She held her gripped in her mind and in her heart. Soundlessly she called to her.

  Mama!

  Cheerful Giver was filled with a sudden dread. This was his tribute. She was supposed to go willingly to her death. Even the ones that were not willing were made to look as if they accepted their fate, with the help of tranquilizing drugs. There could never be an unseemly struggle on the rock. That stained the purity of the offering in the eyes of the Radiant Power above.

  But the tribute would not move.

  The High Priest, now thoroughly alarmed, looked from the staring tribute back to the group round the king and saw the expression on the face of the girl in white.

  "It's her!" he cried. "She's doing it!"

  The king now saw it, too. He shouted to his bodyguard, a giant axer.

  "Seize her! Kill her!"

  Professor Ortus readied the second needle, which had to be inserted in a vein in Seeker's arm. The boy was very jumpy, and Ortus himself was nervous. He fumbled the insertion.

  "Ow!" yelled Seeker. "That hurt!"

  "Sit still!"

  For his second attempt, he held Seeker's arm steady with one hand while he inserted the needle with the other.

  "There!" he said. "All done! How are you feeling? Are you ready for the power?"

  "What will it do to me?"

  "Make you into a god!"

  He crossed to the master controls. As he did so, he heard a stirring from within the canteen. The boy's shout of pain must have woken Blaze. Still, he thought, the door is locked.

  "Here we go!" he said. He threw the main switch.

  The people in the temple square were starting to panic.

  "Fall! Fall!" they shouted.

  The priests on the rock pleaded with the tribute.

  "Come!" they said. "It's time! Fall into the arms of the Radiant Power! Give us life!"

  "Fall! Fall!" shouted the crowd as the sun sank unstoppably to the water.

  On the temple terrace the giant axer seized Morning Star in both massive hands and raised her high in the air, breaking her eye contact with the tribute. The tribute gave a shudder and turned to face the setting sun.

  "Fall! Fall! Fall!" chanted the people of Radiance, in an agonized, pulsing cry.

  The doors from the tanks burst open: roaring, golden, beautiful, the Wildman sprang, his clasped hands outreached in a flying double fist. The blow snapped back the axer's huge head, breaking his neck. He buckled and fell, and Morning Star fell with him. Spikers from the tanks came streaming onto the terrace, howling their crazed rage. Priests and officials, terrified, fled from them towards the broad stairway.

  "Call out the axers!" cried the king. "Call out the dogs!
"

  Seeker was in the grip of the machine. He was jerking in the chair, and his skin was prickling all over, and he could no longer control any of his muscles. He could hear himself uttering a shivery stammering crying sound. He knew he had gone too far, but he had no way now to escape his fate.

  Professor Ortus heard the yells of the riot outside. He also heard movement behind the locked door of the canteen.

  "Everything's all right!" he called, trying to sound calm.

  A voice from within called out.

  "What's happening?"

  It was a voice Seeker had hardly expected to hear ever again. He was quite unable to reply.

  "Stay where you are," called the professor. "Everything's all right."

  There came a rattle on the door. Then silence. Then the door shattered before his eyes, and out stepped Blaze, transformed. One glance was enough. He strode to Seeker's side and pulled the needles from his neck and arm. Ortus ran at him, frantic to stop him. Blaze turned, and his eyes locked on to the scientist's eyes. Gone was the blank expressionless look. Ortus stopped dead, frozen by the pure power in those eyes. Blaze raised one hand and extended two fingers towards him. Ortus felt a great weight descend on his shoulders and chest. He sank to his knees. The weight bore down on him, crushing the life from him.

  "Please—," he cried, choking, unable to breathe.

  Blaze turned back to Seeker, and with rapid movements, he snapped the straps that held Seeker to the chair, and caught him as he crumpled forward.

  "Little brother! My little brother!"

  He took him in his arms.

  "I didn't know! What have you done? I didn't know!"