Stewards of the Flame

by Sylvia Engdahl

  “So you’re going to teach me to . . . turn this off?”

  “Yes. But not right away, Jesse.” Kira looked at him with compassion. “There’s another kind of protection I have to give you first. The process involves some suffering, but what you’ll gain is worth that. Okay?’

  He wondered what would happen if he said it was not okay. But he did trust Kira’s wisdom, and he’d gone along with too much to balk now, so he nodded.

  She took him from the lab into the infirmary, where she opened a cabinet and produced a hypodermic. “I’m going to give you something that will make you sick,” she said. “I know you still feel frightened without cause, and that will make this particularly hard to bear. There is no physical antidote. It will not simply wear off. I can of course heal you if necessary, but you need to learn that your own mind is capable of doing so.”

  Jesse drew breath. Well, they had done it to him many times in the Hospital and he had survived—but either they had used an antidote or it had worn off. . . . “What sort of symptoms will I have?” he asked.”

  “Nausea and cramps—similar to what you had in the Hospital, but more severe.”

  Jesse lay down on the cot. Kira gave him the injection, then left the room. What followed were among the worst hours of his life.

  He broke out into a cold sweat when the nausea hit; it was indeed more severe and persistent than it had been in the Hospital. The cramps proved almost unendurable. He found himself unable to stop the pain as he had learned to do—internal pain was somehow harder to manage. Dimly, he perceived that the baseless terror with which he’d begun might have something to do with this. The fact that he was constantly dragging himself to and from the bathroom also interfered with control of his feelings. His terror progressed from being groundless to a specific fear that Kira would leave him alone until he somehow made his mind cure him—which meant she might never come back.

  By the time she did return he was so weak he could hardly speak. “Kira . . . I feel like I’m . . . dying. I don’t want to ask for help, but—”

  She put a cool hand on his forehead, and he felt her sympathy rush into him, reviving him. “This is a harsh lesson,” she said gently.

  “And I’ve failed.”

  “No. It will serve its purpose.” She helped him back into the lab, went on dual, showed him a new mind-pattern. He matched it quite quickly, and the sickness faded. “Remember it,” she cautioned. “This isn’t something we’d want to repeat for practice.”

  Definitely not, thought Jesse. “Kira—if I’d had this training before I was in the Hospital, could I have thrown off what they gave me?”

  “Yes, though you’d have been wise not to reveal that you could.”

  “Then . . . I’m in danger of being picked up again. That’s what you’re trying to protect me from.”

  “Possibly, though the risk is small. You might also get sick naturally from something like food poisoning. But that’s not the main point of the lesson.” Kira paused, then continued, “Jesse, I didn’t drug you—we don’t believe in drugs, after all. What I injected was distilled water.”

  He was not sure he’d heard right. “What made me sick, if not the injection?”

  “Your mind made you sick. On ancient Earth, witch doctors killed their enemies with curses. Prisoners told they’d been poisoned sometimes died with the symptoms of poisoning. And people today often get sick merely because the Meds say they’re sick. If informed by a trusted authority that sickness is imminent, then the mind will produce sickness—even yours did.”

  “The placebo effect in reverse?”

  “Yes. The technical term is ‘nocebo.’”

  “And I fell for it,” he said ruefully. “In spite of all you’ve been saying these past weeks.”

  “That very fact proves that it’s the mind, not the body, that determines your well-being, doesn’t it? All the training has been aimed toward making you understand this. Just an intellectual understanding’s not enough, though. It needs to be a deep, gut-level understanding.”

  “Well,” Jesse said dryly, “gut-level knowledge is what I got, certainly.”

  “As we warned you in the beginning, we use drastic methods to break the conditioning people acquire by living in a Med-dominated culture. Have they worked for you? Have you become unconditionally sure that the mind can determine physical responses?”

  “Yes,” Jesse declared. “I believe it, Kira.”

  “Good. You’ll need to, during the Ritual. Remember it, when the moment comes in which you must defy your deepest instinctive fear.”

  He was too tired, and still too shaken by unwarranted fright, to ponder this. It took another hour of work on dual before he managed to absorb the fact that groundless anxiety, like any other fear, would not go away until he was willing for it not to go away. Once he’d mastered the knack of not letting it bother him, however, the anxiety lifted. It seemed incredible that he could ever have panicked over nothing. He knew that if it did happen again, he could ride it out.

  “Congratulations,” Kira told him, as his spirits began to rise. “You’ve come a long way. Whatever Peter’s motive was for pushing you so fast, his experiment succeeded. I wish you joy with Carla, Jesse. You’ve earned it.”

  ~ 34 ~

  The days after Carla returned were idyllic. Jesse had never known so much happiness; every hour with her was joy, but the private ones were beyond description. They moved into one of the cottages—only temporarily theirs, of course, since different people came to the Lodge during different weeks—and spent a good share of their time there. That time brought him more than sensual pleasure. That sex could lead to altered consciousness had been known to many cultures, she told him, and though the goals and symbols of the traditions that had used it that way on Earth weren’t the same as the Group’s, some of the same techniques applied. He wondered, once he’d been shown those techniques, why he’d ever thought mere minutes long enough for lovemaking.

  Carla helped him to achieve stronger telepathic rapport than he’d thought possible. It wasn’t only that the two of them became one during physical arousal—that, she said, sometimes happened even to people without paranormal skills. It would have proved the existence of telepathy centuries ago if not for the widespread fear of recognizing such powers. Now free of that fear, Jesse let her teach him to sustain their link, to reach with his mind and receive knowledge from hers. She assured him that once gained, this skill would be lasting and could be used apart from sex, not only with her but with others. “For working as a healer,” she explained, “which you may do later on. But especially for the Ritual, when you’ll draw on power from us all.”

  He was not worried about the coming Ritual, despite Kira’s admission that it involved danger. Carla would be with him. She seemed to be looking forward to it. Having found that the Group’s methods always turned out well, he saw no reason to be afraid.

  On the morning of the appointed day, Peter took him to the lab for one last check of the abilities in which he’d been trained. It was a grueling session, and although he performed flawlessly, Jesse found himself getting more and more nervous as it progressed. Finally it dawned on him that Peter was causing this, deliberately stirring fears he’d thought were behind him—even to the extent of leading him into the mind-pattern for groundless anxiety.

  “Damn it, Peter,” he burst out, “you’re trying to scare me! You can’t do that, you know.”

  “I thought not,” Peter agreed, “not this way, anyway. But I had to make sure.” He sat up, pushing back his headpiece, and the dual feedback patterns on the wallscreen blinked off. “If you did not have enough confidence by now to be absolutely unshakable in the use of your skills, I could not let you go through with the Ritual tonight. Yet you must have the impetus of fear to gain the mind power it will demand. So you need to feel some apprehension.”

  “And with clever games, you’re setting me up to do so,” Jesse observed.

  “I suppose it seems that way.
But the danger of failure is real.” Peter reached over and gripped Jesse’s hand. “Jess, from here on things get serious. There will be no more games, and you can be badly hurt if you take this warning too casually.”

  “Not telling me what to expect is a game in itself, though, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Peter said. “If I described what we’ll do in advance, you would be so afraid that you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

  “So you simply . . . test me. The way we began.”

  “Not ‘simply,’ but yes, tests are inherent in it, not only of your courage but of your trust in us. You could not do what we’ll ask of you without our telepathic aid—our rapport with each other is the foundation of the Group, and to become one of us you must be willing to rely on it. Furthermore, if your belief in what you pledge is less than unconditional, if you merely pretend to yourself that you believe, both you and others will suffer. But that’s not going to happen.” He smiled reassuringly. “You have been thoroughly prepared to attain the necessary state of consciousness. And it’s an awesome experience, Jess. We’ll all renew our commitment as you make yours, and we’ll get high; but you will start out high and get higher than ever before.”

  “Exactly what am I committing myself to?” Jesse asked, realizing that no one had ever been specific about it.

  “Nothing you’ve not already decided to do. You’ll pledge to live by the principles we’ve taught you and to support fellow-members, just as they will support you.”

  “Is that all?” He had hoped he’d be asked to take on some significant task. He was impatient, now, to see action.

  Peter, sensing this thought, hesitated. “That’s all as far as the Ritual is concerned. Before long, Jess, I may ask you for a further commitment. I can’t talk about that yet. If Ian should say anything that implies special plans for you, keep it to yourself, okay?”

  “Ian’s coming, then?”

  “Yes, thank God. It will be his last Ritual, his last visit to the Lodge—so this is a bittersweet time for us. I hope you’ll forgive us if our joy in your celebration and wedding feast is mixed with sadness.”

  That afternoon more people began to arrive on the Island; boats and seaplanes were moored in the bay since there wasn’t room for them all at the dock. Jesse and Carla slipped away and walked along the shore to a secluded cove far from the swimming area. The weather was glorious, the sky a more vivid blue than was usual on Undine, the sun warm. They spread a blanket on the flat rocks, stripped, and made love. “I’m supposed to get you high,” Carla told him. “You have to start out high the first time you go through the Ritual.”

  “I thought I was expected to be apprehensive,” he said, “though I don’t think I can be if we do this, Carla.” He was already in high spirits, and she was skilled, he knew, in arousing even better feelings. No thought of danger could touch him; the future seemed cloudless as the sky. Whatever happens next, he thought, there will never be a day to surpass this one.

  Later, they stood on a rock by the water, watching the sun drop into the bay and mists begin to rise. Carla was more beautiful than ever in the fading light, he thought, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her slender body silhouetted against the backdrop of silvered waves. It was a picture he would carry with him forever. They kissed one last time, then headed back to change clothes for the evening’s celebration.

  He was still high when they entered the Lodge, and not at all frightened. “You’ll get telepathic help from everyone,” Carla had told him. “And especially from Ian, because he’s good. He won’t let you come to harm.”

  “Better than Peter, even?”

  “Ian trained Peter. He originated most of our techniques.” She gave him a radiant smile. “Just follow his lead and don’t lose focus. You’re going to be fine.”

  The tables in the common room had been pushed against the west windows to make space for a large assembly. Adorned with greenery, they were set buffet-style in preparation for the wedding feast. The floor cushions near the central fireplace had been taken up; the people were all standing. They were animated, even exhilarated, by the rousing music that filled the room—synthesized music, tracks Jesse hadn’t heard before. There was a beat to it that stirred his soul and made him want to soar.

  Peter and Kira, in a corner away from the others, beckoned to Jesse; he and Carla joined them. “Reiko just phoned,” Kira said. “Ian was dressed and ready to come when she went to get him, but his legs were weak and he collapsed. He may live a few weeks longer, but he won’t leave his bed again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jesse said. “Look, we don’t have to have a feast tonight. Nobody will be in a mood for it.”

  “We’re going ahead with the wedding feast,” Peter said. “There’s a crowd here that would be disappointed to have come for nothing—not to mention all the food that’s been prepared. We don’t look on approaching death from old age as cause for mourning, Jess, however deeply we grieve personally.”

  “What do you mean, come for nothing?” Carla said. “The Ritual—”

  “Can’t be held tonight without Ian,” Peter stated.

  “We’ve been over this,” Kira declared. “He will never come again, Peter. He’ll be bedridden until he dies. You know what has to be done. Will you stand here and tell Jesse when he’s ready for commitment, worked up to it, that you lack the strength to fulfill your own responsibilities?”

  Peter’s face was white. “I’m not prepared. No official appointment has been made, and since Reiko’s not here the Council can’t vote—”

  “That’s a formality, and you know it. You have been Ian’s backup in every Ritual for the past five years; everyone’s aware of his wishes. You are his heir in every sense, not just the legal one. You’ve been carrying most of the leadership load anyway lately. There’s not a remote chance that the Council will choose anyone else.”

  Jesse stared at him, puzzled. To shrink from a hard task was so unlike Peter that he wondered what he was misinterpreting.

  “I can’t risk it,” Peter said stubbornly. “Not tonight, not with Jesse—”

  “When, then, and with whom?” Carla demanded. “Jesse and I are married, Peter! Is he to come to the city, vulnerable to risk but uncommitted, without the pledged support of the Group and the empowerment you, and you alone, are fit to give him? Or are he and I to live apart while you work up courage to do what Ian has relied on you for?” She spoke angrily; Jesse had never seen her so upset.

  Peter met her eyes, though his own were agonized. “No,” he conceded. “I must take this on now for Jesse’s sake—and for the Group’s, so that it won’t disintegrate when Ian dies. If you of all people can trust Jess to me—”

  “I trust you as I’ve trusted Ian,” Carla declared. She turned to Jesse. “It’s pointless to ask whether you trust Peter,” she said, “because you wouldn’t be here without that. But in the Ritual, a deeper kind of trust is needed. You must believe not just in his sincerity but in his judgment and paranormal skill, and if either of you falters, you will—come to harm. Peter himself won’t be in danger. He is afraid only for you.”

  “It’s up to me, then,” Jesse said. “We seem to be at a point where the future of the Group depends on whether we go ahead with this thing. I don’t know much about what it involves, but I understand command decisions. I am expendable, Peter. You are not. That’s all there is to it; we don’t really have a choice.”

  “If I fail with you, we all lose—lose more than anyone but Ian yet suspects.”

  “Then that’s the chance we both take. But if you withdraw we all lose, too, and it’s not a chance but a sure thing.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Peter admitted. “We have to do it. Yet I’m endangering you by my fear—”

  “Are you? From what you’ve told me, fear should facilitate whatever psi powers you have to use.”

  “God,” Peter murmured. “You’re right there, too. Has it been so many years since I was truly afraid that I’d forgotten?”
>
  “If so, Peter, you need this more than I do,” Jesse said. “Perhaps we’re talking about more than one empowerment here.”

  Peter nodded slowly. “We’ll proceed as planned. Kira, you’re Jesse’s sponsor—”

  Carla broke in, “I want to sponsor Jesse.”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise,” Peter told her, frowning. “It’s been a long time for you, and considering what’s happened in the interim—”

  “Jesse is my husband; it’s my right. And I want to renew my own commitment fully, not just with a candle.” To Jesse she added, “The last time I took an active part was when Ramón sponsored me. Peter is afraid I will be . . . distracted. But if my love for you isn’t stronger than old memories, how can I live up to the pledge?”

  After a pause, Peter said with reluctance, “Okay. Risk increases power; love increases it still more. I’m not myself tonight—I spoke from my own self-doubt again.”

  “It’s heavy responsibility, taking on two of unknown strength your first time presiding,” Kira agreed. “But you are up to it, Peter.”

  “Will you be my backup, Kira?”

  “Of course, if you wish, though Hari is better qualified.”

  “You know Jesse better than Hari does; you’re already bonded with him. Hari’s set to be torchbearer.”

  “All right, then; let’s get started.” She raised her voice, calling on people to assemble.

  ~ 35 ~

  Everyone gathered around the fireplace, not in a ring as usual, but in a semicircle several rows deep. On the open side of it, across the fire from the others, a smaller semicircle was formed: Peter at one end, Kira next to him, then Carla and finally Jesse, spaced so that he was facing Peter. Their crisp white shirts gleamed against the dark backdrop of the wall behind them. It was the first time Jesse had seen anyone wear white at the Lodge. When he and Carla had dressed in the fresh clothes she’d produced, he had assumed she’d chosen white to symbolize their wedding. But Peter’s and Kira’s shirts, open-collared and short-sleeved, were identical to his own.