Half shocked, half amused, Grace stifled a laugh at the thought of a fat tuber walking into their camp. Balat seemed to sense her comic vision and smiled.
“Do you doubt the Goddess could make it so if She wished?”
“Oh, no,” Grace said quickly.
Balat knew it was true. “We wait,” he said.
Sitting comfortably in their dry camp, they waited silently as the shadows lengthened from afternoon shade into evening darkness. The sun dipped lower in the sky, the ground began to cool and the evening breezes stirred.
Grace sat quietly until the softly moving air brought chill bumps up on her arms. Until then, she had been content to sit motionless, watching the line of shadow move inexorably up the flanks of the mountain that now loomed so close. She had sat still and quiet, as Balat did, comfortable with the sound of her own breathing and the gentle surge of blood through her veins. She had been at once aware of all the small stirrings in the world around her and also a part of them, observer and participant, separate and included. The gentle drone of insects and the rhythm of her own breathing had lulled her into a calm state of total acceptance. Now, however, the night air plucked at her skin, and the shadows turned dark.
She drew back from the trancelike calm and glanced at Balat. He sat, ever still, eyes closed and hands on knees, breathing deeply. Grace wanted to talk with him but his total absorption in his meditation kept her from it. She tried to pick up the thread of her own meditative state but it eluded her. Restless, hungry and unsure of herself, Grace sat, but now it seemed all her senses were sharpened to the point of irritation.
Her buttocks were numb from sitting on the hard ground; her knees ached. She found dirt caked against the back of one heel, and scratched it off with her finger. The night air laid icy hands on her arms.
She was just about to brave the silence and ask Balat how long they must sit so when she heard a noise that sounded like wind in the treetops. It was a sound that was familiar to her after living in the forest; a high, diffuse sound that rolled over her like distant thunder. With a start she remembered, however, that they were no longer in the forest. There were no trees. Glancing about, she felt a momentary panic as the sound continued, yet there was nothing she could see that created it. Not even the sparse grass moved and Grace felt no breath of moving air on her skin. It was as if a spirit wind blew, one that passed through the earthly world with no evidence of its passing except its unearthly sound.
Grace felt the tiny hairs on her arms come erect and her skin chilled.
A high, piercing cry cut through the night and Grace jumped at the sound. Immediately she realized it was only the cry of a hawk, yet the ring of it in the darkness unsettled her. She looked up and saw the animal winging toward her; its white underbelly gleamed in the waning twilight. As it flapped closer, she saw that it carried a smaller prey bird in its talons. The hunting was already profitable so early in the evening.
Then the cry came again, and Grace saw it was not this hawk that made the sound, but another—a female that was diving out of the darkening sky. The male seemed undaunted by the female’s attack, and flew an unhurried course above Grace, the dead prey limp in his powerful grip. The larger female, in contrast, was a bolt of living lightning that speared down out of the sky and struck with all the suddenness and power of a summer storm. The collision was marked by a resounding thud that sounded painful even to Grace far below, and feathers flew in an explosion of white down. Enthralled, Grace watched the birds tumble and recover while their lost feathers rocked gently on the night air; all but one—one plummeted down, straight down. With a gasp, Grace saw that it wasn’t a feather at all, but the small bird that the first hawk had killed. It dropped sharply through the cool air and landed with a quiet thump in the dirt at Balat’s side.
Stunned, Grace looked from the small body crumpled on the ground back to the sky, but the hawks had disappeared. All trace of them was gone: the feathers, the last vibration of their cries, the last ripple of air pushed outward by their powerful wings. It was as if they had not been there at all. Even the sound of the spirit wind was gone, and the only sounds that came were those of a natural day cooling into night.
Yet the prey bird lay there dead on the ground.
Balat stretched and opened his eyes. He picked up the bird.
“Dinner,” he told Grace. “Let’s make a fire.”
CHAPTER 10
When they reached the very base of the mountain, Grace stared up at it in awe. Its flanks rose smooth and unbroken, great stretches of nothing but black rock, all the way up to the lip of the crater. The expanse of it was daunting, as well as the accumulation of rock that bespoke the mountain’s great power. Grace felt compelled to drop to her knees before it.
“It is a holy place,” she said breathlessly.
Knowing some of what she felt, Balat kneeled beside her. “I have heard that even before the Shift this was a place of power and worship. There are some places on our planet that seem to be intersections of power and the force of the Goddess emanates from them. This is one such place. You feel it very strongly, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Grace could hardly answer. She felt exhausted, yet exhilarated; drained, yet energized. It seemed as though the force of the mountain pulled and pushed her at the same time, creating such a current through her that her very atoms danced. She was alive with sensations.
“Come,” Balat said. “We will go around to the back of the mountain. There is a place there I want to show you.”
They climbed over haphazard piles of black rock, scrambled over mounds of smaller cinders. The back of the mountain was less sheer than the front, its clean lines broken by the mad jumble of boulders and pyramids of small rock. They scaled foothills, each larger than the last, until it seemed to Grace as she looked about that they were on a stormy ocean of endless black, peaked waves.
Finally Balat led her down an inner valley that was comparatively easy walking. The walls of the valley were huge piles of lava, one abutting the next, but the floor of the valley itself was fairly level and they walked easily, their footsteps crunching on the rock. For all the familiarity of the place, Grace thought it might as well have been another planet they trod; there was certainly nothing from her world that was recognizable.
“This will be our camp,” Balat said, dropping his pack. “Leave everything here for now.”
They set their packs to one side of the valley floor and walked on.
“I believe,” Balat said, “that the holes in the rock are caused by air pockets that form while the rock is still molten.” He stopped and ran his hands over an outcrop of rock in the valley wall. The holes in it were large and jagged, almost fist-sized, but cleanly rounded out inside. “Do you see how they tend to be round always? No corners? Bubbles would be that shape, pressed equally on all sides by the molten rock.”
Curiously, Grace ran a finger around the edge of one such hole; as jagged as the rock itself was, the inside of the hole was very smooth. Although it was hard for her to imagine the rock as liquid, she thought Balat’s theory sounded plausible, as plausible as anything in this alien place.
“This thing I am going to show you,” Balat said, walking on, “is like nothing else I have ever seen. I have no theory about it.”
Her curiosity piqued, Grace wondered what it was and when she would see it.
The valley curved one way and another, yet seemed endless. They had left their packs, and would need time to walk back before dark, so it couldn’t be too far, but ...
Balat stopped and faced her. Grace met his eyes questioningly. With a reverent gesture of his hand, he guided her eyes to an open space in the wall of the canyon.
Grace looked through the opening, only registering slight surprise that she had been unaware of it before, and gasped. Before her the canyon fell away into a huge open bowl and in the middle of the bowl sat the most enormous rock she had ever seen. It was like a mountain all of itself, spans and spans and spans wide and taller th
an—something lurked in the back corner of her mind, a name—taller than any building she had ever seen, twice as tall as the tallest tree. It was huge and round and black, alternately dusty and dull or shiny and gleaming. And the strangest things about it were the holes; holes as big as normal boulders, holes as big as houses, holes people could climb in, fall in, live in. It was hard to remember it was rock only, and not some living thing, some foreign being that could crush and conquer all in its path. Its size alone, just sitting still, was frightening.
Balat laughed, and Grace felt sheepish to realize she had edged back behind him as if for protection. Chagrined, she stepped out and fought off the prickle of apprehension.
“Yes, it has very much power,” Balat said to her silent statement. “I have no explanation for it. The mountain must have formed this in its belly, like cattle chewing the same food over and over, except in the mountain it grew and expanded until the mountain could not hold it anymore and it spit it out. I think it is a very wonderful thing, sitting here alone and hidden in this destroyed land. When I see it, I feel that the Goddess’ greatness is everywhere, even in those places where no living thing goes.”
“May we touch it?” Grace asked, still in some awe.
“Yes, but later. I wanted to show it to you first in daylight; now let us go back and make our camp. There is an exercise I would have us both do here later.”
Back at their canyon camp, Balat divided the last of the fowl meat and they drank their fill of water. When they were both satisfied and content, he began to explain his plan.
“You remember what we did last evening, meditating only and waiting for the Goddess to provide for us?”
Grace nodded.
“Now I ask that you do more. I ask that you go alone to the big rock and find a cave there to meditate in. I would like you to take only a little water with you, no more, and stay for a whole night and day and another night beyond that. I would ask that you be still and silent and be open to what the Goddess gives you.”
A little uncertain, Grace said, “You mean food?”
“Food and whatever else She sees fit to offer you. The Goddess has many gifts, more than She can ever give. They are as varied as all the shapes and all the colors of everything that exists. Be open to what comes to you. Judge nothing.” He paused, watching Grace closely. “Do you feel as though you want to do this thing?”
Swallowing to soothe her tight throat, Grace said, “I will do it if you wish, I just don’t know if I can—”
Balat held up a hand. “You can do anything the Goddess wishes. There is no success in this, no failure. That was not my question. Do you feel that you want to?”
Grace thought about doing it, then thought about not doing it. “Yes,” she said, “I want to.”
Balat was pleased. “You will go just before sundown.”
Eyeing the sun that stood over her shoulder, she nodded.
“Choose a place that speaks to you,” Balat said. “And remember that you will be there for a long time. Remember that it must protect you and provide for you.”
“Will I take nothing with me?” Grace asked.
“Water, only,” Balat said. “For the rest, the Goddess will provide.”
“What will you do?”
“I will find a place, also,” he said, “and be open to what I need to learn. You see, we never stop learning in this life, not unless we purposely close ourselves off. There is always more, if we want it. So you will not really be alone. I will be there, somewhere, and of course the Goddess will be there also. The three of us will be together.”
When the sun began to dip toward the far horizon, Balat signaled that it was time. Grace was to go first and choose her cave; Balat would follow after a time. She took her water skin and glanced at Balat uncertainly.
“I hope I can do all you think I can,” she said.
“Do nothing for me,” Balat said. “Do for yourself or the Goddess.”
Not much comforted, Grace started out.
The way was not difficult, yet it looked very different; the shadows had lengthened and Grace had trouble recognizing landmarks. When she found the rock, it was bigger than she remembered and now was burnished bright copper by the setting sun. The shadows in the caves were deep black and she wondered if she would be able to tell if an animal crouched waiting there for prey. With a small prayer to the Goddess, she began her search.
Her first consideration was accessibility. She looked for an opening that was easy to reach, not only for her but also for any food animals that might come to her. At the same time she thought about how accessible she might be to any predators that sensed a meal and decided to look for a cave that narrowed or turned that she might be able to defend herself.
Then there was the exposure. Judging by the evening shadows, she estimated the sun’s path and disallowed any openings that would expose her to the hot summer sun during the day. In full sun, the black rock would bake like an oven and even her water skin would not keep her hydrated. She searched the area of the rock that faced south, then.
Finally she had to consider her comfort. Some caves were all rock floored, kept clean by rain or wind. Some, a bit more sheltered, had floors of soft sand, filtered through years into a fine silt. If she must be still for a day and two nights, she wanted as soft a floor as possible under her buttocks.
Cautiously, yet always with an eye for the sun and its waning light, she examined opening after opening. Some were too large and open, offering little protection, or too shallow to suit her. She found one with a nice bend into a narrow leg that would be easily defensible but the floor was hard and uneven. Becoming a bit exasperated, she wondered if she would find a perfect one, or would have to settle for less. She did not have much daylight left.
She found one that was small but deep and not overly exposed. The floor was thick with sand, but it had no defensible bend in it. Other than that, she thought, it would be perfect. But she didn’t know what kind of predators might range this desolate land. She wanted to feel safe.
Ready to search on, she took a step away, but something stopped her. What had Balat said? Find a cave that speaks to you. She looked back at the unremarkable opening. Was it speaking to her? She liked it for no apparent reason. It wasn’t what she wanted, exactly—or thought she wanted. But ... she liked it.
“Very well,” she said to the modest cave, “we shall be partners for a time. I just hope you know what I am doing.”
She found a comfortable place to sit and set her water skin nearby. The little cave was clean—no debris or animal scat—and was small enough to seemingly embrace her. It felt contented to her. She was sure she had chosen well—or it had chosen her well.
The sun must be almost down, she thought. Its fiery descent was hidden from view but the shadows of evening had run together to form an unbroken pool of twilight. Her world, seen through the arched portal of the cave, was colorless, only varying shades of gray. There was nothing to do now but wait.
It seemed odd to be ensconced in a hole in a rock, but strangely comforting as well. She wondered how long this rock had sat here, waiting for her to come along and use it for her temporary home. The thought brought with it an image from some faraway place, the image of a small clear stream that tumbled over rocks, and among those rocks tiny fish lived out their small but significant lives. She could see some darting about, brave with hunger or territoriality, while others hovered almost motionless in their small niches, only their blunt noses showing at all. And now she felt like one of those tiny fish. She had found a secure place in this rock that would live forever, and she would live out a heartbeat of her life here, then move on. Eventually, some other small being of the Goddess’ creation would come along and perhaps find this same cave for a time. But by then, Grace would be gone.
Seeing herself from the ageless rock’s perspective seemed to almost lift her out of herself. If she closed her eyes and let her concentration drift, she could almost feel the tug of a vacuum pulling her up
, up, up out of her body, up along the side of the great pitted wall of rock, up to where the great mass began to curve toward the breathlessly high, rounded top and she was floating above it, looking down at the ground impossibly far below. It was magical how she could see. The holes in the rock were so far below her she could hardly make them out as more than dark points on a darker mass and her own body had fallen away so small that she could not sense its presence at all. It was as if her physical form had indeed become as one of those tiny fish, much too small to even be considered by the moon as it wheeled slowly overhead. And she was the moon; the world dropped away until even the behemoth rock was only a piece of grit upon the surface of the planet and the dark universe was all about her like a starry robe of gauze. And this robe had wings, great sweeping wings of stardust that lifted her and carried her effortlessly out into the universe. The brilliant ball of the sun fell away at her back and the other planets that circled it dropped past one by one as she swept on. Other suns, other stars flashed like jewels in the black void, each one calling to her, singing its own song of mystery and wonder. Now Grace could hear other songs; the universe was alive with beautiful voices, so crowded with sound that she wondered how she could ever have thought it empty. The songs touched her, caressed her, flowing around her like the warm currents of a celestial river. She was a tiny fish again, small and fragile yet comforted and protected by the Goddess’ stream that held her. She was of that stream—breathing it, buoyed by it, living in it. She knew that this river of creation was her home, more so than the forest or the rock or the earth would ever be. And she would always be home, no matter where she was.
She awoke with a start, disoriented and yet somehow keenly awake. The night was black. She could see stars on the far horizon, but they weren’t there when she had fallen asleep, so she had no idea how far the night had advanced.
Had she really slept? Her body felt vibrant, alive, as if it had just run ecstatically through a meadow. She could feel her blood singing. She eased out of her sitting position and stretched carefully, allowing the cramped physical muscles to align with the loose psychic ones. With slow, careful movements, she brought her body back into a conscious balance, then settled once more into a position of patient waiting.
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