Beyond the Tomorrow Mountains

by Sylvia Engdahl

  Staring at him, Noren saw the Chief Inquisitor in a way he never had before, despite their weeks of friendship. Stefred himself had once been married. His wife had been a Scholar, one of the few village women to seek knowledge beyond the station in which custom had placed her. She had been killed accidentally during a nuclear research experiment. There had no doubt been children who’d become craftsworkers or farmers somewhere, proud of their status as adopted sons or daughters without dreaming that their true father still lived. Or perhaps they had become heretics; perhaps they were now Scholars themselves! Stefred would not know. Even if he had presided at their inquisitions, he would not know, for though babies were placed only with good and loving families, no records of parentage were kept. Chagrined, Noren began, “What you said about Grenald—”

  “Was meant merely to remind you that he too is human.”

  “I—I’ve oversimplified things, I guess.”

  “Sometimes one must in order to keep one’s balance.”

  “I don’t really want to, though. And I do want Talyra here if she wants to come.”

  “So I thought.” Stefred rose, “I’m sure you’ve guessed that I’m concerned about more today than you and Talyra, that this issue is related to a larger one. At tonight’s meeting you will learn the facts. Noren, there are two things you must go through before you learn. I would not subject you to them in quick succession if it were not an emergency.”

  “That’s all right,” Noren assured him, though inwardly he was already more deeply shaken than he cared to admit. The day was apparently to be as demanding for him as for Brek.

  * * *

  Several hours later, after introducing Brek to the computer room where Scholars were free to call forth any information they cared to about the Six Worlds, Noren met Stefred in the courtyard beside the inner gates that led to the City’s exit dome. “It’s best for you to be present when I interview Talyra,” Stefred had told him. “It will not be an easy thing to witness, and you won’t be allowed to speak; but she will need you, Noren. Merely seeing you will give her confidence.”

  Noren shuddered. It would be necessary, he knew, to determine not only Talyra’s willingness to enter the Inner City, but her ability to adapt to customs totally unlike those under which she’d been reared; and neither issue could be approached directly. “If I’m not convinced that she’ll be happy here, I shall send her away,” Stefred warned. “You will have to watch her go, knowing that you won’t see each other again, and she’ll be unaware that it might have been otherwise. Do you love her enough to endure that?”

  “Yes,” Noren said steadily. “But Stefred, she can’t be given enough information for her to decide whether she’ll be happy until it’s too late for her to go back.”

  “She won’t need information; she will judge and be judged by her feelings and her sense of values, just like a Scholar candidate, during my talk with her.”

  Noren frowned; Stefred’s talks with people were apt to be grueling. “Will you—test her, then?” he asked worriedly.

  “Yes, briefly, but there’s no danger in it; I promise you she won’t be hurt in any lasting way.”

  As they walked down the wide corridor that stretched toward the main Gates and outer platform where public ceremonies were held, Noren’s pulse accelerated. He had not been in this dome, nor indeed in any other, since the day of his recantation; the huge domes that ringed the area of closely spaced towers were Outer City, off limits to Scholars and Inner City Technicians. Exceptions were made when it was necessary for a Scholar to appear publicly, to interview someone, or to investigate trouble with equipment such as the nuclear power plant, which was normally maintained by ordinary Technicians who lived in the domes and were free to go outside. But Noren had as yet done none of these things. The research laboratories, where he’d sometimes assisted, were located in the towers themselves.

  Walking beside Stefred, Noren thought back to the last time he’d passed through the corridor, recalling how clear-cut the Founders’ decision had seemed to him then. Prone though he’d always been to question, he had not questioned their conviction that the sealing of the City would result in discovery of a way to change the world. He had known too little of science to guess that the essential research might fail. He’d acknowledged the Prophecy’s truth only because he’d believed that it was true, literally, despite its symbolic form—nothing could have induced him to recant on any other basis. Nothing else could have justified his acceptance of a rigid caste system under which most people were deprived both of technology and of all but the most rudimentary education.

  When, in recanting, Noren had endorsed that system, he had done so in the belief that synthesization of metal was only a matter of time. He had assumed that if the Scholars went on doing their job, there could be no doubt about cities and machines someday becoming available to everyone. Once he’d begun to study, however, he had found that research didn’t work that way. If scientists didn’t know how to do something, then they had no real proof that it could ever be done. And so far the Scholars hadn’t learned how to achieve nuclear fusion of heavy elements. Their progress over the years had consisted mainly of eliminating once-promising possibilities. To be sure, the current experimentation offered hope of another possibility; but hope was not the same as assurance. Would he have proclaimed the Prophecy to be “true in its entirety” if he had realized that? Noren wondered. Would he have freely renounced his opposition to the Scholars’ authority as “false, misconceived and wholly pernicious?”

  Those statements echoed in Noren’s mind as he and Stefred continued along the corridor leading toward the platform where he had made them. The memory was all the more vivid because Stefred was robed; as a known Scholar, he could not show himself to Talyra—or in fact to any villager or Outer City Technician—without covering his ordinary clothes. And even so, such face-to-face discussions were few. Routine business was carried on by radiophone, for only thus could the air of mystery surrounding the Scholars be preserved.

  The small windowless room they entered contained a desk and several chairs, all made of the white plastic material with which the starships had been outfitted. Most City furnishings were similar and had been in continuous use throughout the generations since the Founding. That would have been thought strange on the Six Worlds, Noren had been told; there, people had recycled things long before they wore out simply for the sake of variety. Variety was one of the luxuries the City could not afford. Even the homes of the villagers, who made their own furniture from softstone, wicker and the hides of work-beasts, were less monotonous. For that reason Outer City Technicians sometimes bought village-made furniture although it was relatively uncomfortable; their quarters were more spacious than those of Inner City people, and unlike the Scholars—who, as stewards, were not permitted to own anything—they had money.

  Waiting, Noren turned his mind to Talyra, trying to quell the hope that had risen within him. Even if she wanted to join him, she might not measure up. She was so very devout, so unwilling to question the superiority of the Technician caste, that she could easily give a wrong impression. Stefred would not accept anyone who believed that being a Technician meant having the right to look down on the villagers.

  She is braver than you realize, Stefred had said. She must be, Noren reflected, if she had requested the audience. Any villager would feel terror at personal contact with the awesome High Priests who, under ordinary circumstances, were seen only at a distance. And Talyra had additional cause to be afraid. Supposing them omniscient, she would fear that they were aware that she’d once helped him elude their custody.

  “You won’t let on that you know about her part in my escape from the village, will you?” he asked anxiously.

  “I shall have to,” Stefred told him. “She’ll expect it. Since those who request audience are informed that their past lives will be investigated, her coming here is tantamount to an open confession. And though a villager normally can’t be accused by Technician
s or Scholars unless first convicted by his peers, a student at the training center is under our jurisdiction.”

  “She took the risk deliberately,” mused Noren. “Why?”

  “Why did you take the ones you took? You wanted something, wanted it so much that you ignored everything reason told you and followed your heart instead.”

  “But she has no hope of even seeing me.”

  “She hopes to help you through intercession on your behalf. Also, though you may find it hard to fathom, it’s likely that she’s torn by guilt over what she did—which is not the same as regretting it—and is seeking to declare herself and take the consequences. That is a form of honesty, Noren.”

  Maybe it was, Noren thought, recalling the suggestion that he might have misinterpreted Talyra’s attitude. In the village they’d argued from opposite premises—she, that Scholars could do no wrong; he, that they could do no right—and neither view had been based on any real knowledge of the situation. Yet of the two, his had been the more dogmatic. There had been no doubt in his mind that it explained everything. Talyra, on the other hand, had believed both in the goodness of the Scholars and in the injustice of his imprisonment. Honesty was simple when one’s convictions didn’t conflict; now that he was facing doubts and conflicts of his own, he was beginning to see why she had seemed so bound by unexamined assumptions.

  “She’ll accept your reassurance,” he said, “but as for the rest, it may be hard to get across. The very idea of becoming a Technician may—well, shock her. Talyra’s awed by Technicians; she won’t admit to herself that she’s as smart as they are.”

  “She will admit it to me,” Stefred said. “I’ve dealt with many candidates, Noren, and I know how to find out what they really want.” He paused. “I’ll have to frighten her a little in order to be sure of her true feelings; and to make her aware of them herself, I’ll need to be a bit cruel. You must be silent and let me handle it; you must not offer any encouragement, for if you do, her choice will not be wholly free.”

  Nodding, Noren strove to master his turbulent thoughts. Not since their parting had he dared to envision Talyra deliberately: her face; her long dark curls; her slim figure clad in a tunic and underskirt of the light green worn for holidays and other religious affairs, adorned by blue glass beads of spiritual devotion and today, perhaps, by the red love-beads he’d once given her. . . .

  The door opened; she stood there between two uniformed Technicians, pale but with her head held high. At the sight of him her face was illumined with a brief, astonished joy that turned quickly to anguish. She thought him a prisoner, Noren realized miserably; she would feel terror for him as well as for herself. He longed to go to her, comfort her, but he knew he must not. Talyra must have a fair chance to withdraw.

  Stefred dismissed the Technicians, motioning Talyra forward, and she knelt at his feet. “That is not necessary,” he said brusquely. “It is done only on formal occasions. Sit beside me, Talyra.”

  “Yes, Reverend Sir,” she replied, using the form of address employed in public ritual. She rose and took the chair offered her.

  “‘Sir’ alone is sufficient.” Glancing at Noren, Stefred added reflectively, “It would be well, Talyra, for you to become somewhat less worshipful in regard to Scholars.”

  Noren gulped. If Talyra were ever to address him as ‘Reverend Sir,’ he would be too embarrassed to speak.

  “You have requested audience with us,” Stefred went on, “ostensibly to plead clemency for someone you love. Yet we think perhaps you may also seek our pardon on your own behalf. Surely you know what has come to our attention in our review of your past.”

  “I—I think so, sir.” Though her voice wavered, she appeared less dismayed than Noren himself by the directness of Stefred’s approach and his use of the cold, ceremonious we.

  “We must accuse you of having once helped this man, a self-proclaimed heretic, to escape. You cannot be required to confess to us; it is your right to demand a civil trial. If you waive that right, however, you must swear to answer my questions truthfully and to accept my judgment.”

  “I do waive it, sir. I have no wish to deny the charge.”

  “Swear, then.”

  “I swear by the Mother Star that I will tell you the truth.” Talyra drew a breath and added hastily, “But I wouldn’t sir, if it were not that Noren is already condemned! I’d never tell anything that would hurt him; I only hope I can make you see that he doesn’t deserve such a terrible punishment as—as was announced.”

  “You must pledge also to accept my judgment, Talyra.”

  “I so swear, as far as my own case is concerned—but not for Noren’s!”

  Stefred leaned forward across the desk, fixing his gaze on her. “You must care deeply for him to feel yourself a better judge of his heresy than I. Or are you too an unbeliever? Do you perhaps consider denial of the Prophecy no crime at all?”

  Talyra looked horrified. “Sir, I believe the Prophecy! I have never questioned it! Upon my oath—”

  “Your oath by the Mother Star is worthless as a defense,” the Scholar said dryly, “since if you were indeed an unbeliever, it would have no meaning for you.” He frowned. “Talyra, heresy is a very grave charge. You say you do not think Noren deserves life imprisonment, yet have you ever heard of any heretic who was seen again after his recantation? And not all heretics recant. Some are not even charged publicly, for if they waive civil trial, as you have just done, their cases are not made known in the villages.”

  Talyra met his eyes. “I did not waive a heresy trial,” she declared firmly. “I am not a heretic, and no court would convict me. You told me merely that I am accused of helping Noren, and that is the only crime I’ve admitted.”

  “That’s quite true,” Stefred agreed. “I wasn’t trying to trap you, Talyra, but I had to assure myself that you have the wit not to incriminate yourself falsely. If you didn’t have, it would be improper for me to continue this interview without appointing someone to defend you, for though you are not yet formally charged with heresy, it’s possible that I will find grounds for such a charge in your responses.”

  “What reason could you have for even suspecting me?” cried Talyra indignantly. “I helped Noren because I love him, but I never agreed with what he said—he’ll tell you so himself!”

  The Scholar eyed her intently. “What would you say if I were to tell you that he has said the exact opposite: that he has not only reported your part in his escape, but has claimed that you shared and encouraged the false beliefs that he has now abjured?”

  By great effort, Noren avoided her incredulous stare. One look from him, and she would know what to say; he must not give her any clue. Stefred, he realized, was testing them both by these tactics, for if he feared her answer enough to influence it, it would be proof that he was unwilling to accept a decision based on Talyra’s feelings alone.

  In a cold dull voice Talyra declared, “I would say that you were lying. I didn’t think Scholars could lie, but if you tell me that, I’ll have to believe they can. You are setting a trap for me after all, sir. To accuse a Scholar of lying would indeed be heresy.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me as long as you are honest,” Stefred assured her. “The point at issue here is your motive for helping Noren. To have helped him simply because you love him is one thing, but to have done it because you held heretical beliefs yourself would be something else. So you see I must determine whether you really do love him. If you do, it would be impossible for you ever to believe that he’d done what I suggested. He hasn’t, of course. I did not say he had; I merely said if.”

  Talyra’s tense face relaxed into a faint smile. “You’re very wise, sir. I just can’t think you’ll really lock Noren up for the rest of his life! He—he was always honest, too; doesn’t that count for something? He was wrong, and he’s admitted it—but he believed what he said. Would you have wanted him to lie? Would you have wanted him to repent not having lied?”

  “Certa
in things have inescapable consequences,” Stefred said quietly. “Noren is to be confined within the City permanently and nothing can change that; it is the consequence of heresy. But you don’t really know much about the City, after all. Has it occurred to you that life inside may not be so terrible? The Technicians live here; I live here myself.”

  “But not as a prisoner, sir!”

  “No? Have you ever seen a Scholar outside the City?”

  She shook her head, confused. “Yet you could go outside if you wanted to. You could do anything you wanted to.”

  “Why is it,” said Stefred, sighing, “that people so often think that those above them can do anything they want? It works the other way, Talyra. I have a good deal less choice than you do. If Scholars did whatever they liked, Noren’s suspicion would have been all too accurate; they would be unworthy guardians.”

  To Noren’s relief, Talyra’s expression showed that she was thinking, and the new thoughts didn’t seem unduly disturbing. His concern had been groundless, maybe; he’d feared that the process would be more painful.

  There was a short silence; then Stefred began an innocuous line of questioning quite evidently designed to lead directly to the decision. “Is there anyone outside the City for whom you care more than for Noren?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Not even anyone in your family?”

  “I love my family, but I was planning to marry Noren. Now I’ll never marry anyone.”

  “What are you going to do, then? Do you really want to be a nurse-midwife?”

  “Yes, I like the work at the training center.”

  “Yet you turned down the appointment when it was first offered.”

  “That was because it meant delaying our marriage.”

  “Why was getting married right away so important? Were you eager to have children?”

  Noren held his breath. He and Talyra had never discussed that, for it had been assumed as a matter of course; in the villages a woman who bore few babies was scorned. The rearing of large families was considered a religious virtue. He did not know whether a family was important to her for its own sake, but if it was, she should not enter the Inner City, and Stefred would undoubtedly send her away.