A ripple seemed to pass down the giant neck. Then there came another and another, almost as if the vast body were somehow stretching. As the Metz watched closely, a bulge appeared—not large, but projecting upward from the motded brown of the smooth, slimy hide. From the place where the body merged with the water, the bulge traveled upward until it was at a level with Hiero’s eyes. Then the skin simply split, and that which had caused the bulge was extruded to the surface. It lay on the great body, gleaming in the soft light filtered down through the mist, a lovely golden snail shell, no bigger than a small melon.
As the priest watched, the skin opened again, and the thing was gone. He could almost have smiled, had he not been struck with such wonder. A snail! This deity of the hills, this titan older than memory, was a snail!
He sobered quickly. Whatever the thing was, whatever it had been, it was certainly not to be despised now. And what had it not seen! Why, it was itself an actual, living child of The Death! For what were the fires and the heat, the passing lights and the shaken mountains, but a living memory of what had destroyed the Earth countless years in the past? Ever since that time, this creature had stayed here in the hills, growing and growing, accumulating wisdom as it grew in size, teaching itself by experience, wondering, studying, groping for knowledge. And always it was alone! What must it have been, that life of millennia, always alone? Hiero’s pity was stirred, even as he considered that incredible existence. Here was living proof of the thesis of Brother Aldo and those of his fellow Eleveners that ail life had purpose. But yet what purpose was there to this?
All the while he thought, the great amber eyes, lidless and lashless, stared down, considering him in turn. And the brain of the giant was still logical, its memory of recent events still functioning.
I have tried, Two-Legs, to tell of what I am. I see that you have understood, as I had hoped you might. But there is yet the matter of the animal which bore you on its back. I took it for food. I removed the things it carried, for those I deemed to be of you and necessary to you. Then I drew it into the water. It felt no pain, but fell asleep. And I fed. Thus have I done since I first knew that I was. I meant you no harm, nor do I now. If I could restore the animal to life, I would do so gladly. I wish you contented, Two-Legs, for I did not bring you here to do you harm. I wish speech, the first speech I have ever had with a fellow mind, and that is my sole purpose in trapping you, as in ages past I learned to lure my food hither.
Not without an ache for Segi, Hiero dismissed all thoughts of vengeance. The tragedy of the hopper’s death was no one’s fault. The mind of the giant mollusc could not lie to him on this, if indeed on any matter. It had no training in lying, anyway. Why should it mask its purposes? The ages it had lived were enough evidence of its statements in themselves. Emotions had been foreign to this being that had lived without companionship for many thousands of years. In all that stretch of lonely time, it had possessed only one thing to keep it from going mad with boredom. This was its desire to gain knowledge of the world outside, to know what else there was to existence besides its lonely mere, lost and forgotten in the far reaches of the hills. A seeker after knowledge all his life, Hiero could not but sympathize with the desire of the titan for new learning. It had not meant harm, but only to bring to itself the brain it sensed for the first time in its history.
He thought rapidly, You tell me that without knowing you slew my beast, who was dear to me in a way that you cannot know. I think I believe you. But in addition to this deed, and I will admit that you were ignorant, you spoke also of repairing the harm that you have done. You may have done more harm than you know, even now. For I am on a mission, a journey. There is great need for haste so thai my enemies, the enemies of all that is good, will not achieve what they plan. From this path you have diverted me, for you have drawn me countless leagues from my true path, which lies in the far North. Both this and the death of my hopper stand against you, if your mind is honest.
The reply was instantaneous. I have told you the truth, if truth is what 1 believe. I have no way of measuring the truth, as you call it, though I perceive that you have and that so do others. Attend, then. The creature paused once more, in what Hiero now knew to be its way of marshaling its thoughts in order. It did not like disorder, this solitary mind! And as he thought this, a name came to his lips almost involuntarily. “Solitaire.”
The great, cool voice again reverberated in the endless corridors of his mind. So—you have given me a name in your sounds! I, who have never had or needed a name, accept it. Solitaire! To the man’s continued amazement, the actual letters of the word were formed, in good Metz writing, in his brain! The titan was still sending a message, however.
I have learned much, so much from your mind already! I took such knowledge as your brain would release easily while you slept. I feel—and that is new in itself—that you understand what this means to me. I have new thoughts, new concepts, thousands of them!
The burst of enthusiasm was almost like the shout of a giant in the man’s head.
Now listen to what I have found out while you lay in sleep. Hiero. Again, the actual name floated in formed letters in the astonished human head. But the thought went on, unheeding his marvel. There is a risk, but I think a small one. With much to gain for you, if you are willing to make the attempt. If you have the strength and will continue to trust me, to believe I mean no harm but only that which is to your benefit, then perhaps, but not certainly, for I do not know all that I should, lean help your mind.
The Metz was seated again, comfortably lounging back on a mound of deep moss while he stared up into the soup-bowl eyes looming over him. But his brain was racing as soon as the last statement registered.
Help my mind? His black eyes flickered away, out over the vapors of the lake and then back again. My mind, if you mean my powers of thought, my ability to see far off, to communicate with others, is dead. My enemies killed the power with a drug. This is the main reason I am a fugitive in this wilderness and not leading my people in more open battle. And, Solitaire, you yourself have told me that you found only one small gap, with much effort, by which you could reach my thoughts. What, exactly, do you mean?
The great, calm voice was reassuring. I mean this, my— There was an almost shy hesitation—:friend. In the endless time since what you call The Death, the terrible fires that your folk once loosed—for I know now that it was you, small and feeble though you seem.—I have had much time to learn. I did not simply draw the lower animals to me for food, though at first that was the only reason. I did other things with them, as I did also with the plants.
Your name for what I did is—study! And once more the fiery letters formed.
With your bones inside and your hot blood, your furry coat and your quick movements, you are not so unlike the beast which carried you. Yes, and the hordes of others which have come before. I have looked into their minds, Hiero, and I have learned much. I can do things you have not seen as yet, things with my own body, things I have taught myself. For when I began to grow in size, my mind was not so strong. When the fires stopped and life returned to the hills, there came many great beasts as well, some no doubt quickened to new life, even as I. 1 was not alone in the heart of the hills then! There came things then which hungered also for food, even as when I was small and bore my only defense upon my back. I had to hide often then, so far back in time! But I studied my own body and I learned a great truth concerning that body. I learned that such as I can mold the basic units of life, what you call cells! Yes! Even as the smallest and lowest of the tiny things that swarm in the waters about me, so too can I!
Riveted to his seat, Hiero watched what followed in new wonder. That such things were possible was beyond his dreams.
From the mighty neck, if Solitaire possessed a true neck, there began yet another bulge, such as had heralded the shell. But this one was much larger. It continued to grow and reach, as thick at the base as a great tree. Soon
the huge tentacle or pseudopod was as long as the trunk of such a tree. It waved in the air above the man’s head, its end a tapered point no bigger than his hand, dripping cool water on him as it did so. Then, with a movement that took his literal breath away, it swept down.
He felt a cold circle about his waist, and the next moment he was high in the air, suspended in front of the great, round head and only inches away from it. Before he had time to draw in fresh air, he had been lowered with the same lightning speed and replaced on his moss bed, while again the colossal limb waved back and forth overhead. The pressure had been as gentle as a lover’s embrace.
Next the incredible “arm” shot off down the shore whence he had come, so short a time before. In a split second, it was back, but now in its serpent grasp was the yellowed skull of some long-dead beast, three times Hiero’s size. With a casual flick, it released the thing as if from some enormous catapult. Moments later, from far beyond the range of Hiero’s vision, there came back the echo of a great splash. The voice of Solitaire rumbled in the man’s mind, and this time there was no doubt about it—there was humor in it, and satisfaction, too.
Even if the great beasts could resist my mind now, Hiero, I have a few other ways of keeping myself from being eaten! Now pay yet more attention to what I show you.
The mighty, brown pseudopod came gently down. It stopped no more than a foot from the bronzed, aquiline nose. Then slowly the tip began to narrow and grow smaller and smaller, even more slender and pointed. Soon it was needle-tipped, finer than the smallest surgeon’s probe the Metz had ever seen. This was not the end of its marvels, however.
When it had become so thin that Hiero could barely define it with his eyes, it moved closer to his face, so close that his quickened breath could have warmed the end. From the bare tip now sprouted wirelike tendrils, so fine in texture that the man had to squint to focus on them. They waved before his eyes, so ethereal it was hard to be sure he was seeing them at all. Each one had independent movement, though; each one was under the control of its colossal owner, as much as the sensitive horns or any other part of the titanic mollusc body. A wild idea began to form in Hiero’s mind, an idea so impossible that he tried to dismiss it before it could take full shape. The mighty message in his brain told him that he was wrong to do so.
Yes. You have grasped what I propose. Far back over the lost years, I made these from my own body. I, who have no hands, no limbs such as yours, must perforce grow my own! It took many of your lives, Hiero, so many that I will not weary you with the account. Bit by bit, effort by effort, I learned to use these tools, fashioned from my own flesh. Look again, now!
The threadlike tendrils seemed to vanish. But where they had danced, there was still a faint haze, something the eye could not quite catch, a flicker almost at the bare edge of visibility.
You cannot see them now, or perhaps you can just do so. But they are still there, still under my command, made so small that there is almost nothing, save the very smoothest and hardest of stones, that they cannot pass into.
Hiero waited for what he now knew was coming.
Through the small, ever-so-small openings in your body, those of what you call your skin, through the bone underneath as well, these can easily go. With your consent, Hiero, my first friend, my first mind partner, I will go into your mind with these! I will study what has been done to you by your enemies. And perhaps, though I cannot be sure, I can do something to right this terrible desecration.
Hiero sensed something new in the mind of this strange ally, something he had not noted before. It was anger, pure and simple. The calm, vast brain of the great mutant was infuriated that anyone could tamper with the mind! This was the ultimate outrage! In all the countless centuries it had devoted to pure thought, waiting and hoping for another mentality to contact, it had never imagined such a thing as possible. Why should I? But now it knew such things not only were possible but were done. It was as close to fury as it could be, and the Metz warmed to his newfound friend.
You make an extraordinary offer, Solitaire, he sent. Had I not seen what you are capable of, I should never have dreamed such abilities could exist in the world. But, he added cautiously, I have a few questions to ask. I do not any longer doubt your good will toward me. But can you be sure that what you do will not harm me further? Better, far better to be blind as I am, with at least the physical senses of an animal, than to endure a fate of mindless, total idiocy!
The response was encouraging. lean be sure. Even with my long practice, I may not be able to repair the hurt. But you will be no less than you are at this moment. Thai I—promise! Solitaire wrote the word in Hiero’s mind, seemingly intrigued by its implications. What are your other doubts? You had questions.
Have you no conditions of your own? the man replied. You brought me here, after all, to gain knowledge. Surely you have other demands?
The mind speech was now innocently eager, if such a word could be used about any of Solitaire’s mental processes. I have no demands, no conditions. Some requests I have, but only if you choose. I too have a few questions. If you would answer those, I would be more than repaid!
I certainly can answer a few questions, Hiero thought. If that’s all, go ahead and ask them. I’ll do my best to give you honest answers, although I hope the questions are not too hard. What are they?
I would know all about your human affections, came the reply. Also, the complete history of your race, its physical and mental accomplishments and, above all, its past. I would know of your own mental abilities and how they came upon you. I would learn of the other minds with which you have spoken, both of your kind and others, those that have grown like my own since the coming of The Death. Then there is The Death itself and its workings and how it came. Next there are the wars of your people and the one in which you are engaged now. I would learn also of your enemies, those you call the Unclean, and of your allies in those places whence you came. What else you can think of that I have not mentioned, I should like to learn as well. And then, too, I must learn whatever you know of the most important question of all.
The stunned human rallied at this last point, long enough to interject a question of his own. What on earth is that question?
It is not on Earth, the answer came. At least, from what I sensed in your mind when you—prayed—before you slept, I don’t think it is. I want to know the nature and meaning of God.
“Oh, well,” Hiero said aloud to himself, “I guess I asked for that!”
Then, when I am finished with your mind, we shall talk, Solitaire sent. And after that, you must be gone on your urgent journey.
VI
Runners in the Night
A week’s journey northward from Solitaire’s lake, Hiero leaned on his spear and looked back up the long pass down which he had just come. He rested and relaxed as much as anyone could and still stay alive in the wilds. A few small birds twittered in the dense green scrub, and a hawk almost the size of an eagle peered suspiciously down from its nest in a cranny of the rock wall to his left. Small rodents and lizards skipped among the undergrowth. But there were no dangerous animals near him.
Hiero knew. He was no longer mentally blind. His stolen powers were back and he could once more see with his mind! He could penetrate the small, wild minds around him and actually see, with some effort, through the eyes of the scurrying wildlife.
He polished his shield absently on his arm as he stood in the sunlight of the morning. He had much to be thankful for, and the shield was further evidence of the gratitude he owed, for it was a present from a very new friend—but one whom he had been sorry to leave.
I give you this, Hiero, Solitaire had said at their parting. You have pictured your battles for me in your mind. In them, you have used things such as this. Long ago, perhaps when your kind ruled the world, a large chunk of this matter fell deep into my lake. I found it, also long ago, and kept it because I knew not what it was. But now you may need it, so during the dark when
you rested, I shaped it for you. Carry it and may it guard you, as my own shield once did for me when the world was younger and the fires had not come.
The Metz eyed the small shield fondly. It was round and very light, only about two feet and a bit across. Its color was a dull hue, between gray and brown, and it reflected little light. He knew what it was, and he tried to explain it to the great mollusc, who was deeply interested. Bits of plastic were always turning up when ground was broken, mostly brittle and useless, but sometimes in good shape. Hiero’s dead mother had once owned such a plate, with a strange creature, a flat-billed bird in human costume, figured upon it.
Even in the vanished past, however, few would have seen plastic this hard and dense. An experimental piece from some lost forgotten laboratory, it had now been put to a new and unforeseen use. The giant brain had even remembered to shape holes in arches on the back for the leather arm straps Hiero needed. And in the center of the boss, Solitaire had somehow set a sharp stone of dull, glinting black. This is the hardest, densest thing I have ever found, he told the man. Had your head been made of this material, we would have had no success in bringing back the lost strength to your mind!
Hiero had seen a few diamonds, always sparkling in women’s hair or on their hands or wrists. This big piece of industrial bort was something unknown to him. But he did not care. He would have happily taken anything that the great master of the lake cared to give him. For the greatest gift of all had been to have most of his mind power and senses back.
Not all, regretfully. When he had awakened the morning after the operation, he found that Solitaire felt it had been done badly. The giant persistently interrupted Hiero’s thanks with apologetic remarks. I failed to understand all of the connections, the purposes of each and every one. Those which I could not understand I dared not meddle with. I am deeply aware that I did less than I should or than I promised. Nothing the man could tell him made the great creature feel better, though what had been accomplished was well-nigh incredible.
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